


From Russia with Lubov

by CeleryThesis



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 74,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2819213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeleryThesis/pseuds/CeleryThesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan and Lubov rebuild their careers together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction. The characters share names and the very basic story of the real people, but beyond that, it is entirely fictional.

**Part 1**

 

**Dylan  
**

**April 2014**

 

He walked in the rink at Waterloo the same way he had every day for years.  Of all profound things, he was thinking that he needed to use the can before they started practice today, and so that became part of this memory.  Throughout the whole sordid scene, he really had to pee.

His coach Kris waved him into the office before Dylan could get to the locker room.  Dylan thought for a moment to tell him to hold on a sec, but he figured it was some minor thing with lessons for that afternoon or some administrative detail he could listen to, and then head in.  He and Kirsten were working on elements this week.  They had outlines for the new programs, but their choreographer was still working out the details.  Dylan liked this part of the process when things seemed fresh and new, and the season was still months away.

He entered the office and saw Kirsten sitting there.  She didn't look up at him, which was not unusual.  In retrospect, he should have realized something wasn't right because she should be ignoring him glued to her phone, but instead she was was looking into her empty hands.  For whatever reason, though, Dylan did not get the hint.  He glanced at his little mail slot and picked up the junk to go directly into the recycle bin.

"What's up?" He asked Kris, but he was distracted by a particularly hideous costume on the cover of a catalog as it was hitting the bin.

"Well..." the coach began nervously, and Dylan gave him his full attention.  This sounded serious.  Finally, Dylan's danger instincts started to kick in.  "Kirsten needs to tell you some things."

 _She's pregnant_ was his first thought.  There was no reason or evidence to support this.  Dylan didn't even know if she was dating anyone, although there always seemed to be someone hanging around.  He had no idea why this particular thought had jumped up.  Fortunately, he kept it to himself and just looked at her.

"Dylan," She was smiling but her eyes were very nervous.  "Sit down.  Please."

He had to go through a whole routine of finding a chair and moving a pile of crap from it and scooting it over.  Good lord, he had to pee.

"I've been thinking pretty much nonstop since we got back from Japan."  She took a deep breath.  They had completed in the world championships there last month and come in fourth.  They had actually come in third in the long program and had been only five points from third place and ten from second.  If they upped their difficultly slightly, they were competitive with the very best in the world, including their Canadian friendly rivals, Meagan and Eric, who had won the bronze.  He was excited and hopeful about the upcoming season.  Two days after they returned from Japan, they had committed to four more years and making another run at the Olympics in 2018.  Sochi had been a dream come true.  They had helped Canada win the team silver medal and they had come in fifth in the individual competition, two places above Meagan and Eric.

"Dylan, I want to compete in at least two more Olympic cycles.  I don't think that's realistic for us."  She looked down again.  He was momentarily confused as to what she was implying.

"I want to start fresh with a new partner who can commit to eight years with me."  She finally looked up.

On the wall behind Kirsten's shoulder was a white board that still had their tech and program goals for this season, written in their coach Kristy's loopy, grade-school perfect cursive.  Dylan realized his mouth was gaping.

"What..." He couldn't articulate a sentence.  He wasn't sure if he was going for _what did I do?_ or _what the hell are you thinking?_ or just just a simple _wait...what?_

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Okay..."

"I've thought about this Dylan, and I think it can be good for both of you," Kris interjected.

"Yeah?" Dylan said incredulously. 

Dylan and Kirsten weren't best friends or even more than friendly co-workers.  There had been some tension over the years.  The two families didn't love each other. Kirsten's family supported her financially, while Dylan was fully a self-supporting adult and refused to allow his parents to contribute.  This had limited their resources somewhat over the years although they had always been funded generously by Skate Canada.  Still, they couldn't afford some of the extras that other teams had. There was an eight year age-gap between the skaters, and they had very little in common off the ice.  They had been put together five years before really as a temporary partnership after Dylan's sister had to quit the sport because of her back issues.  Kirsten was just trying out pairs after skating singles throughout her teen years.  Dylan was a very good partner for her to learn from. They were a good match physically, and somehow another partner for either of them was never found.  They had success early in competitions, and at some point just decided to stick together.  They were known for their fun performances, his strength in lifts, and her perk.  That was actually a thing.  She was perky.  It limited them somewhat in program choices. They had never been able to even feign a serious romantic spark, but they excelled at light and flirty and perky.  

He wasn't sure if he was even justified in feeling betrayed, but he did.  He felt gutted.  "I'll be back," he said and made his way to the locker room without remembering the walk.  He knew he had to pee, but he stood there against the wall with nothing coming out. He felt a rising panic, which shook him into reality.  Get a grip, seriously.  He was able to breathe and then urinate.  He washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror.  Breathe. Breathe.  He was able to walk back into the office.

"So do you have someone in mind?"  Kirsten immediately looked down, which was all the conformation Dylan needed.

"No, man," Kris tried to assure him.  Liar.  "No, and we want to help both of you find partners that will be a great fit.  We want to keep working with both of you."  The words sounded ridiculous coming out of his coach's mouth.  Dylan made the decision right there that he would not be coached by this asshole ever again.  He had been with this school on and off for years and had moved here to Waterloo for the sake of the partnership.  He felt suddenly free to return to Toronto.  He had no idea about continuing to skate, but he wasn't doing it here.  Being coached by the same team as Kirsten and her mystery partner was a red flag of a bad idea.  His friend Scott Moir had told him enough horror stories about sharing your coach with a rival.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go..."  Dylan cut both of them off, "I'll be back for my class at three." Dylan had a group of novice kids he coached four days a week.  It was usually the favorite part of his day.

He strode out of the rink and sucked in fresh air.  It was a beautiful, clear day in still chilly April, but obviously heading to true spring.  Going home and back to bed in the tiny apartment he shared with another pairs team from the rink was just too depressing.  He decided to drive to the running trail and run until he was exhausted but more clear-headed.  He drove the few miles with news on the radio blurring into his head, not comprehending anything but keeping his own thoughts at bay.

He was dressed to work out, and did a few stretches.  He found some loud music on his phone, smacked his headphones in place, and took off.  About half a mile in, he turned down the music and finally allowed himself to think.  His mother would be devastated.  She was ambivalent about Kirsten personally, but she was so proud of him and of what the team had accomplished. His dad would be circumspect.  _Sorry, son.  So what's the plan?_ He could already hear the conversation.  _You can do so much better_ from his sisters, especially Kyra, his former partner who had felt betrayed by Kirsten--one of her closest friends before Dylan and Kirsten had teamed up. All of Kyra's anguish about having to end her career had been transferred into bad feelings toward Kirsten. It wasn't really fair, but it was understandable. But, sure, he could do so much better. Yeah, the ladies are going to be lining up to skate with his old twenty-nine, almost thirty year old self.  Come skate with the Perk's reject.  Oh yeah, they were going to be beating down his door.

What will Sarah think?  They had been dating almost a year, and she had supported him brilliantly throughout the season of Olympic training craziness.  She actually liked Kirsten and talked her up to Dylan.  Sarah was tall and curvy with long, brown, curly hair.  She was Kirsten's physical opposite and had never felt the least bit threatened by the partnership.  Dylan and Sarah had talked many times about what his post-skating life would be.  He knew she would be thrilled if he decided this was a sign to retire, finish his university classes, finally, and become a real adult, like she was.  She was a junior partner in an accounting firm in Toronto. The ninety minute drive between them was annoying, and while it wasn't exactly a long distance relationship, they usually only saw each other on weekends.

He pushed himself to five miles and then headed back to the car.  Usually he stayed after a run and did thirty minutes of strength, pull-ups, walking push-ups, some ab stuff and whatever else came to mind, but if this was it, what was the point? He might as well stay in bed and eat a whole cheesecake. He decided to teach his class and then head in to Toronto for the weekend.  It was Thursday, and his novice kids didn't meet on Friday.  They had three more weeks before the spring session was over.  He would stay in Waterloo until he had fulfilled his responsibilities with them.  Then he was done with this place. 

He drove back to the apartment and stood under the shower until the water ran cold.  He put on clean skating clothes and packed a bag so he could take off from the rink.  He hadn't eaten since breakfast, but he wasn't the least bit hungry.  He forced himself to eat a banana and then headed back for his class.

He saw his coach Kristy right off, and she threw him a sympathetic look.  He ignored it and headed straight for the locker room.  She called out his name.

"Dylan, I'm really sorry."

"Thanks, Kristy."

"We're here for you if you need anything."

"Thanks."

"No one knows; we're not going to say anything, but you probably want to get with the Skate Canada folks to talk about press releases, and you know."

He looked at her incredulously.  "I'll get right on that, but I have a class.  Do they know?"

"Of course not!  It's your news to tell. But, you know how gossip is.  People will start talking about you and Kirsten not training together."

And about her training with someone else, he thought. "Is she here?"

"Yes, she's in the office."

"I've got twenty minutes before class.  We'll make the call."

It took almost the whole time.  They talked to one of the federation heads Mike Spilchuk, who said everything he could to dissuade them.  Dylan finally told him that none of this was his idea, but that it was a waste of time to continue at this point. 

"Listen, though, don't announce anything yet, okay?  Give yourselves the weekend to really decide if this is what you want.  We will handle the press early next week, if you are positive that this is where you're going."

They agreed.  Dylan didn't look at Kirsten and headed out to the waiting kids.

After the lesson, he stopped to talk to no one, just headed for his car.  He texted his roommates, Josh and Brittany to let them know he'd be back Monday, and then texted Sarah.

 **Dylan** :  Headed to Toronto, are you busy?

She replied almost immediately. 

 **Sarah** : NO! What a great surprise! Do you want to go out?

He didn't want to get into this via text.

 **Dylan** :  Kinda tired.  Stay in?

 **Sarah** :  That's fine--I'll pick up take out.  Can't wait to see you!

 **Dylan** : You, too.

He pulled out of the parking lot and turned toward the highway.  Traffic was heavy, but mostly going the opposite way.  He felt he needed to talk to someone who would be totally on his side.  He couldn't deal with his family just yet, and Sarah was finishing up with work.  He thought of his friend Bryce, who had been a champion level pairs skater with his ex-partner and ex-girlfriend Jessica. Dylan grabbed his phone and found Bryce's number and punched the button.  He picked up on the second ring.

"Dylan, what's up?"

"It's been a day.  Kirsten dumped me."

"WHAT? What the hell?"

"She and Kris dropped it on me this morning."

"What did she say?"

"She wants to compete for eight more years with someone else."

"Who?"

"I don't don't know, but it's someone already decided.  They deny it, but they're lying."

"Oh my god, what the fuck, man?"  There was a slight pause.  "Dude!  I know who it is!  It's Marinaro!"

"What?  No!  She dumped me for Marinaro? Fucking Marinaro?" Dylan laughed. "No way."

"Yeah, I think so.  I heard yesterday that Margaret Purdy is devastated because he's skating with someone else.  It has to be."

"Poor Margaret.  Not that he could lift her anyway."

"Yeah."

"She's too tall for me."

"Are you already thinking about a new partner? That's good!"

"I wasn't until just now."

"No Castelli." Bryce's tone was adamant.

"What?"

"No Castelli.  No one on the list that you want to fuck."

"Dude, I'm on the way to Sarah's."

"Don't care.  No Marissa.  Don't go down that road."

Dylan laughed.  "Speaking of that, what about Jessica? Is she wanting back in?"

"Man, don't even think about that." Bryce sounded horrified.

"Seriously, Bryce, do you really think..."

"That's not even funny.  Like really, don't even joke about that.  Disaster."

"Any way, I think Mervin has been trying out with Marissa, and it's looking good for them."

"Good for Mervin and good for you."

"I'm not sure I want to go through with this all again any way."

"Let me tell you this," his friend said kindly.  "Only do it if you want to do something more with your skating.  If you want to go further, you know.  Don't do it just to throw it back in Kirsten's face.  It took me a year to figure out that the only reason I wanted to get back in was to show up Jessica, and it wouldn't have been worth it. And don't just do it because the Olympics were fun.  There are a lot of fun things that don't involve four years of torture. If you think you would be happy moving on, do it.  Go teach grade four and settle down with Sarah."

"That's what she's going to say."

"Sarah?"

"Yeah."

"Listen to her, man."

"But, what if I do want to go on?"

"Come train with Lee and me at the Cricket Club."

"Goes without saying."

"Done with Waterloo?"

"Completely."

"Well, that makes me want you to stay in and show up Kirsten," Bryce laughed.

"If you think of anyone..."

"I'll make a list tonight and call you in the morning."

"Thanks, man."

"It's going to be okay, Dylan."

"Thanks."

He geared up to have to same conversation, albeit slightly less in the skating weeds, with Sarah. He realized just how exhausted he was and wasn't looking forward to hashing it out again.  And then again tomorrow with his family. His anger toward Kirsten bubbled up to the surface again.  He pulled up into Sarah's building and texted her that he was there.  She met him at the door and he fell into her arms.

"Dylan, hey, are you okay?" She held him close.

He went through A,B,C and D of the story.  She was appropriately shocked and sympathetic and angry on his behalf.  Also, as he predicted, she pushed immediately for him to move on.

"If you go back full time, you could have your teaching credentials this time next year."

Dylan had been taking classes for years towards a degree in elementary education.  He had loved working with the nine and ten year olds at the rink and had focused on that age in his education studies.  His dad was a doctor and his mother a midwife, and they had been surprised at his educational direction but wholly supportive, as was Sarah.  This was important, because if they did make a life together, she would always be the higher earner, and this didn't seem to bother her a bit.  In fact it seemed as if she would much rather be with an elementary teacher than a figure skater, judging by the way this conversation was going. She wanted kids as much as he did, and he had pictured a future with her in which he was the primary caregiver, and she maintained her career. Being a dad is what he wanted most, anyway.

She had served them Thai food and opened a bottle of wine. They were sitting on her large, plush brown leather sofa eating with chopsticks. She put her food down and rubbed his feet while they talked.  

"So you really don't think I should keep skating?" He asked her.

"Dylan, I'm not saying that.  I'm saying if you don't want to put yourself through the partner search and training and starting from square one again, you have great, viable options."

"I know..."

"But you still want to skate."

"I think I do."

"Then you should.  I support you either way, you know that."

He put aside the food he still wasn't really hungry for and pulled her into his arms.  "Thank you, Sarah."  He kissed her, and she lay in his arms, caressing his chest and arms comfortingly.  They hadn't ever told each other _I love you_ in words but he felt it then and considered saying it aloud.  Because of the trauma of the day, he decided against it.  It would be more meaningful if it didn't some in the middle of an existential crisis.  She did lead him to bed, and they made love before she drifted off to sleep.

The sex between them was fine.  Not the best of Dylan's life, but certainly not the worst.  It concerned him that although she was always willing to have a go, she never seemed to enjoy it much.  She seemed largely indifferent to her own pleasure. She didn't want him to go down on her, ever, and was not very responsive when he tried to help her come in other ways. He was doubtful she had ever had an orgasm in his presence although she told him she was perfectly satisfied anytime he broached the subject.  She was always pleasant and accommodating to him in bed. It was clear they lacked passion, and it was concerning to him.

She was wonderful, though, in every other way.  She had never complained about his rather gypsy life living in this tiny hovel or that based only on the proximity to the rink, traveling across the world several times a year, and having to live away from her. When he told her last night that he was moving to Toronto in three weeks, she was thrilled.  She was sleeping beside him peacefully while his mind was still running in a million directions.  He decided to focus on a list of available partners and hopefully to fall asleep before he got too far.

He couldn't think of any Canadian woman who would work.  All of the break-ups had been re-partnered or the girl was unsuitable.  Margaret Purdy was sweet and a good skater, but she was three inches shorter than he was at most.  He wasn't serious about skating with Jessica Dubé, just trying to wind up Bryce a bit.  Besides Marissa, who did seem to be going in the direction of Mervin (and who was really just a little crush), he could think of two American girls he could contact.  He didn't know either well, but it would beat just putting his name on the partner search site. He figured if he was opening the door to girls from the States, he should probably think about Europe, too.

Skating with a partner from another country was going to be a headache.  Kirsten was really lucky she had found a Canadian, in spite of him being an utter tool.  At least they wouldn't have to go through the process of accreditation and ultimately citizenship if the team ever wanted to compete in the Olympics.  Because he had won that team silver medal, Canada would probably never release him to skate for another country, not that he wanted to skate for someone else.  If he did, Israel was his best option.  Just by virtue of being Jewish he could easily become a citizen.  There was an American pairs girl who was Jewish and had skated for Israel, and then had been dumped by her asshole partner after Worlds.  That was a real possibility.  Perhaps he could convince her to skate for Canada, and they could use the Israel thing to have the upper hand in negotiations with the federation. 

He continued with the world tour in his mind. There were some possibilities he would check out in the morning. His roommates Josh and Brittany were a fairly new partnership.  He was from the States and had just completed the process of getting his Canadian credentials.  He had arranged try-outs with all sorts of people before he and Brittany found each other. In fact...

The back of Dylan's neck tingled when he thought about this.  Lubov.  Josh had arranged a try-out with her and then had cancelled.  Dylan had first seen Lubov Illush.....something impossible at Skate Canada in 2010.  Lubov and her partner had won, and Dylan and Kirsten had nabbed the silver.  Lubov was tiny and exquisite in the Russian style.  She was incredibly flexible, and their lifts and twist had been some of the best Dylan had ever seen live.  He remembered Lubov had been thrilled at their win and her happy laughter throughout the medal ceremony had contrasted the rather austere Russian style they exhibited on the ice.  He thought back to that weekend and recalled a memory of her coach and partner yelling angrily backstage and Lubov looking over at Dylan.

About a week later, she had sent him a Facebook friend request, which had surprised him as they hadn't exchanged two words during the competition.  He figured that she was one who sent them to everyone she came in contact with and asked Kirsten if Lubov had sent her one.

"No," Kirsten had laughed.  "She probably thinks you're cute."

Doubtful.  Lubov was as young as Kirsten.  Still, it was charming, he thought, and accepted the request.  Through this, he had kept up with her somewhat over the years. He didn't recall that they'd had an actual exchange, but they occasionally liked each other's pictures.  It was a friendship in that odd contemporary category.

He had heard the breakup of her partnership had been ugly, and that she had tried to skate for France, but the Russian federation had said absolutely not. Still, that was years ago. Perhaps they would be willing to discuss it now. There had been further ugliness--talk of eating disorders and depression, but he didn't know all the details.  Via Facebook, and he realized this was far from an accurate measure, she seemed in a good, healthy place now, and was clearly still skating and looking for a partner.

This idea was growing into something in his mind.  He willed himself to sleep and resolved to to contact her in the morning.  He was pondering the wording of the message when he finally drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Luba**

**April 2014**

 

Her phone squawked at her at six, and she was up by 6:10, out of the shower and eating her porridge--lovingly prepared by Mama every day--by 6:30, and on the train by 6:50.  Mama worked just a few blocks away and didn't have to leave until 7:20.  Papa worked on the other side of Moscow and had to be on his train by 5:45.  Next week had a two day holiday.  Luba could hardly wait.

During the train commute, she read an article for her child psychology class and looked over her class notes from the last lecture. She was fighting drowsiness and was thankful she had enough time to grab a coffee from the student center before her first class started at 9:00.  Coffee and pen in hand, she willed herself to stay alert for the next ninety minutes.  She checked in with her adviser after class--she was almost finished with her semester thesis but had hit a research snag that the middle aged professor talked her through.  She joined her friends for a hot lunch at the student center.  It was a brownish-grey soup and bread that wasn't terrible.  It was still cold and pretty much the color of the soup in Moscow, but spring had to come soon.  Luba longed for the fresh produce of summer.

Her friend Anna took the same afternoon English class as Luba, and they walked leisurely to the building twenty minutes early. Tomorrow was Saturday, and it was past time for weekend plans to be solidified.

"I have to be at the rink all day tomorrow," Luba told her friend.

"Until?"

"At least five.  The girls have their tests in two weeks."

"Come out with us after.  You can spend the night."

"That sounds good.  I have to be home by noon on Sunday."

"No problem.  Dance until four; sleep on the train."

Study on the train, Luba knew.  University would be winding down in two weeks, and then they had six weeks off to study, and then four major exams.  They settled in to verb tenses and Luba was engrossed in the language until the professor released them.  She hugged Anna and headed for a cross-town train to the rink.  Barring delays, she would have an hour and a half to work on her own skating before her students turned up. 

She was just a few minutes later than she wanted to be, and put on her skating clothes quickly in the stark changing room.  She kept her skates in her locker here, and she tied them on firmly. They were held together with tape and shoelaces, but they still worked.  There were some juniors on the ice, so she stayed out of their way and ran some jumps and spins.  It was rare that someone was around to work on pairs elements with her, and this day was typical, so she worked by herself and was sweaty and out of breath by the time the students arrived.

Her group of fifteen had to demonstrate that they could do three specific triples, plus spins and footwork elements, to pass their exams on to the next level.  Half the class was already there.  Several were varying degrees of almost proficient, and then several were not going to make it.  She would have to sit down with them individually soon and let them know it was the end of the road for them.  This wasn't an elite level school, but it had standards, and the students had to meet their benchmarks to keep progressing.  Of course Luba hated to have to bring the bad news, but everyone knew how the system worked.

They went through the warm-up exercises and then started practicing.  Luba spent the majority of her time with the girls on the cusp.  By the end of the session, she could predict which ones would make it, although there were always some surprises both ways.  They worked on footwork at the end of the lesson and cooled down for a few minutes before hitting the changing room.  Luba got a quick shower and then put on her school clothes again.  She worked from six to nine-thirty at the university library to help pay for school.  She had some bread and butter and an apple in the little kitchen at the rink before she headed back to school.  Mama would have a dinner plate for her at home, but she wouldn't be there until almost eleven.

The cross-town train was packed with people going home from work, and Luba tried not to be jealous as she got off at the university stop.  Her job was one of the best on campus. Not that many people would be at the library on Friday night.  She could study in peace, and she had a computer at her station with wonderful, free WI-fi.  She liked her coworkers, and the time usually went by quickly.  The library was particularly dead tonight, and Luba settled in after greeting her desk-mate Ivan. 

She wasted no time logging in to the computer.  Nothing exciting in her mailbox as usual.  She deleted the junk and then clicked on her Facebook.  There were several notices, including a private message.  She figured it was her sister about plans for the May holiday next week.  Her sister lived with her husband and baby son not far from Luba's family, but she would be expected to attend her husband's family's festivities as well, so there were always scheduling issues. Luba daydreamed about two days off.  The first day would be family and neighbors and wonderful food.  The second day, she planned to stay in her pajamas and watch soap opera marathons that would be on TV. She checked her other alerts and her news feed before she clicked on the message, getting her phone out to note times.

Except it wasn't from her sister.  Luba's blood rushed to her face when she saw the note was from Dylan Moscovitch, who in spite of his name, wasn't from Moscow.  It was such a funny name for a guy who was so North American through and through.  The words blurred in front of her and she focused on them intensely.

_Lubov,_

_Hello.  I hope you're doing well.  I heard from Josh Reagan that you are looking for a partner.  Do you have anyone in mind?  I ask because I have a friend here that is looking for one, and I thought of you. Let me know if you might be interested._

_Thanks,_

_Dylan Moscovitch_

Luba had a hundred thoughts at once:  quickly a list of Canadian pairs guys flooded her head.  Mervin Tran, maybe.  Bryce Davison, probably not.  Surely not Josh.  He had cancelled their try-out.  She wracked her brain to think of others.  Probably some low level guy at Dylan's club she'd never heard of.  She snorted, and Ivan looked over.

"Sorry." She clicked into the Latin alphabet function and typed a response.

 _Hello, Dylan._ She typed.  She pondered about how to word a response in English.  Simple was best.  _I am looking for a partner.  Who is your friend?_

She wouldn't be back to the library until Monday.  She knew she would waste some precious data on her phone checking up on this.  It was the first inquiry she'd had in a while, and she was determined to have a partner for next season.

She thought of that Skate Canada competition when she had met Dylan. She and her former partner Nodari had skated as well as they ever had as seniors.  They had won--Dylan and his partner had come in second.  Luba had been so happy and so hopeful of the victory.  Her training situation at that point was not ideal.  Her coach Natalia Pavlova a had quick temper and expressed her anger loudly.  Luba often felt like the target of her unpleasantness.  Luba got easily frustrated, too, which made for an uneasy dynamic with her coach and partner.  Nodari was fine most of the time.  They got along okay but were never friends.  He was an extremely consistent jumper, and couldn't understand why she struggled so much.  On the other hand, she wanted him to feel more with her--to relate better with her.  She sometimes felt very alone on the ice, like they weren't true partners.

Their time in Canada should have been a dream, but there was one issue after another, and Luba remembered it as the weekend of simmering anger. She couldn't land a jump in practice, and everyone was on edge.  The day of the long program, Pavlova was yelling at them backstage.  Luba just wanted to hide.  She saw Dylan across the room practicing his jumps on the floor in his sneakers, one after another, obviously trying not to stare at the Russians being excoriated by their coach.  She caught his eye, and he shot her a look of such good-humored sympathy. _Been there, girl_.

Later after she and Nodari had won, Dylan had given her an extra squeeze when they had congratulated each other on the podium and had whispered _congratulations_ in her ear.  Nothing about it was unusual, but because of their earlier encounter, it stuck in her mind.  His partner was the ideal of North American cuteness and enthusiasm, but she didn't make the impression on Luba that Dylan had.  This had prompted her nineteen year old self to find Dylan on Facebook when she got back to Moscow and impulsively send him a friend request.

She and Nodari had split up fifteen months after that competition and had never achieved their Skate Canada success again.  The training situation got worse and worse.  In the end, Nodari and Pavlova had blamed Luba for all of the team's troubles.  The experience had damaged Luba.  They told her she was worthless when she struggled to land jumps.  They told her she was too heavy.  She lost about ten pounds, but then her jumps got worse.  By the time Pavlova officially ended the partnership, Luba was down to the weight she had been at ten years old and was labeled washed up in the sport.

Her parents intervened by taking her to the right doctor and encouraging her not to give up. She found a skating club in Moscow that was happy to have her and a mentor there that helped her get started in teaching younger skaters.  She looked outside Russia for partners, as she was not being considered by the Russian coaches.  She found a willing partner in France and had a good try-out, but the Russian federation refused to release her.  Her father made an impassioned plea to the head of the federation, and even brought him her diaries to show how awful her experience with Pavlova had been, but still they refused.  The head of the federation even made public the contents of the diaries, which was humiliating and baffling.  If they hated her that much, why were they trying so hard to hold on to her?

There was a click from the computer.  Dylan was online and answering her already.  What time was it in Canada?  Mid-morning?

 **Dylan** : My friend can't go public yet.  Would you be interested in a try-out?

 **Luba** :  I maybe interested if I must know who it is.

Ugh, verb tenses. That was clearly not right.

 **Luba** :  When your friend decide to come forward, let me know.

Luba hoped that was clear.  Her brain was addled with hope and her inner English translator was off. 

 **Dylan** :  Well...It's me.

Luba gasped.  Ivan looked over again.  "You okay?"

"No.  Not okay.  I can't believe it!"

Ivan looked at her seemingly trying to determine if she was okay or if it was another Luba drama.

"Skating stuff," she explained.  "Potentially fantastic skating stuff."

 **Dylan** : Are you still there?

 **Luba** :  Yes.  Am here.  In shock.  What happened with Kirsten?

Luba had followed Dylan and Kirsten through the years, always rooting for them because she kept up a bit with Dylan.  They'd had a great season--fourth in the world.  They had been underscored, though, at Worlds, Luba thought, and that can lead to bad feelings.

 **Dylan** : She doesn't want to skate with me any more.

 **Luba** :  Why not?

 **Dylan** :  I really don't know.  I'm old?  ;) 

Luba wasn't sure if she was dreaming with all of this.  She warned herself not to get too excited. 

 **Luba** :  You want to try with me?

 **Dylan** :  Yes, I would like that.  Is that a possibility?

For many reasons, no.  The first one was obvious.

 **Luba** :  I don't have money to fly to Canada.

He responded immediately.

 **Dylan** :  I'll send you a ticket.

Luba felt her face go hot.

 **Luba** :  I have two more weeks of university and then exams this summer.  My ice skaters have their exams in two weeks, as well.

 **Dylan** :  I have my skating students for the next two weeks, too.  I was thinking end of May?  What age are your students, by the way?

 **Luba** :  9 and 10 years.

 **Dylan** :  Mine, too!

Luba smiled. 

 **Luba** :  I don't have Canadian visa.  I do have USA visa.

 **Dylan** :  How long does it take to get a visa on your end?

 **Luba** :  Long time.

 **Dylan** :  You could fly to Detroit.  I have lots of friends there, and we could probably skate at the DSC.

 **Luba** :  I can't think of another reason.  I have to be in Russia in July for university exams, so May must be good.

 **Dylan** :  Wow!  Okay.  Lubov, I'm looking forward to it.

 **Luba** :  Lubov is formal, nickname Luba. <3

She regretted the heart as soon as she hit enter.  She wasn't a mail-order Russian bride.

 **Dylan** :  Luba, then.  I'll look into tickets and get back with you so we can schedule.

Luba gave him her email address and explained that it was too expensive to text him.  Facebook at the library was the ideal communication, and she gave him her schedule for the next week.

 **Luba** :  Thank you, Dylan, for ticket.  For thinking of me.

 **Dylan** :  Looking forward to seeing you.  I'll talk to you Monday.

Luba tried to study the last hour of work, but her mind wouldn't focus.  Don't hope.  Don't do it.  But it was a losing battle.  She was flooded with hope, and could hardly wait to get home and tell Mama and Papa her news.  She hugged Ivan as she was leaving and kissed him on both cheeks. She jogged to the train station with the biggest smile she'd had in years.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dylan**

**May 2014**

 

Her plane was delayed almost four hours.  He was tracking it on his phone, so at least he wasn't stuck at the airport.  It had given him time to pay for two days worth of ice time at the rink and drop his stuff off at Mitch and Alex's apartment. He had stopped this morning at Mitch's house in Toronto to pick up keys and then straight to Detroit.  He was nervous waiting for her to come out of customs.

It had all happened so fast and almost on a whim.  He must have been carried away, having her respond so quickly to his Facebook, while he was still online.  He went from talking casually to offering her a plane ticket. And here he was, a thousand dollar investment at least counting travel and ice time, and he hadn't even seen her.  It was going to be a disaster, he was sure of it.

They had chatted just about every day she was at her job in the library.  They had dissected their last two years, him trying to figure out how it went wrong with Kirsten, her telling him all about the hell she had been through in the aftermath of her partnership.  He felt like he had gotten to know her as well as any of his long distance skating friends, but could you really know someone just chatting on Facebook?

His first glimpse of her did not reassure him.  She looked exhausted, significantly underweight, and maybe thirteen.  He put on a big smile, though, and put his hand up to alert her as she walked down the corridor.  She was looking from person to person and finally spotted him.  A smile took over her face and relief flooded her eyes.  She walked into him, so he put his arms around her.

"Dylan," she said in this completely unexpected, husky voice.  It reminded him immediately of legendary Russian pairs coach Tamara Moskvina.  It made him laugh.

"Luba!  You look wrecked.  Bad flight?"

"Very heppy to be in the ground."

That made him laugh more.  "On the ground."

"ON the ground," she said as if she were taking notes for an exam.

It was almost eleven P.M.  They made their way to baggage claim.

"We skate tonight?" She asked him as they walked.

"No, the rink is closed.  I borrowed some friends' apartment.  They're on vacation.  We'll sleep and then skate in the morning."  He cringed.  Did that sound like she had to go to bed with him before the try-out? Oh, god.  "I'm on the couch.  You have their room," he added hastily.

She looked at him with an amused expression but didn't say anything.  She had a small suitcase and a separate skate bag.  Her luggage looked like official team Russia issue. He insisted on carrying the bag and wheeling her little suitcase, which he was sure made him look ridiculous, but he wanted to make a good impression on her. They walked out to the parking lot.  He had arrived early enough to scope out the baggage claim and park reasonably close.  Plus, the airport wasn't so crowded at this time. He got out his keys and hit the unlock button and his SUV lit up expectantly.

"This is your car?" Luba asked incredulously.

"Yeah, it's kind of a beater at this point; I put so many miles on it going back and forth to Toronto. I was planning on getting a new one this fall."  Now that was out of the question without a partnership or Skate Canada funding, he was going to have to cut back on everything.  He had moved all his stuff from Waterloo to his parents' house, where he would probably be for the foreseeable future, or perhaps with Sarah if she offered. He didn't say any of this to Luba.

"Is SO nice!  Is very big!"

Dylan fought the urge to reply _that's what she said_ which would almost certainly be lost on Luba, and if it wasn't would once again make her think he was a perv. He laughed again and put her bags in the back.  Should he open her door? Ugh, this was so awkward.  She saved him by opening it herself and climbing in.

"I love your car!" She was looking at the stereo.

"Do you want me to put my phone on it for the music?  What music do you like?"

"Yes, put on your phone, I like all music." Her voice really threw him: it was so low-pitched, but it was very warm.  It was charming and made him feel a little more at ease.

The music helped fill the space and allowed them to drive without trying to make conversation.  She was looking at everything and was clearly taking it all in.  From their Facebook chats, he knew she had never been to the U.S. before.  She had planned to come over, of course, to try-out with Josh, but that fell through.  She had also thought she would be in L.A. for Worlds in 2009, but her partner had injured himself in a skiing accident, and they had to drop out.  She felt like that was the event that began the bad luck phase of the partnership and its slow death march. 

Mitch and Alex lived in a very quiet complex that was dark and Dylan hoped he was at the right building.  He parked and got her things out of the back and then led the way to the door he hoped was theirs.  The key worked, and he stepped back and let her enter first.

"Beautiful!  This belongs to Canadian ice dance pair?" She asked incredulously.

"Well, they rent it."

It _was_ a nice apartment. One or both of the occupants must be meticulous house keepers because it was immaculately clean.

"It's big," Luba said as she scanned the room.  "It's bigger than my family apartment."

Dylan didn't know what to say to that. He took her bags into the bedroom.  "Here's where you are. And the bathroom is right here," he showed her the adjoining room.

She looked at the photographs on the wall. "Mitch and Alex are...couple...romantic couple?"

"Yes, they're together."

She nodded. 

"Are you hungry? I picked up a few groceries. We can go tomorrow and get things you like," he told her.

"Not hungry.  I'm so tired.  This beautiful bed...I don't know if I should..."

"Oh, yeah, you can sleep on it.  They know we're here.  They offered the place to us. They expect that the bed will be used." He could kick himself for his choice of words.  "Seriously, sleep. We'll hit the rink first thing in the morning.  Let me get you some water, at least."  He escaped to the kitchen and filled a large tumbler with ice water.  He banged his head on the cabinet in frustration. He wondered if he ought to push the food issue.  Yeah, that was probably the worst idea he'd had.  But she was all smiles when he returned.

"Thank you, Dylan.  Thank you for bringing me here.  I can't wait to skate tomorrow."

"Yeah, me too.  And you're welcome, Luba.  And good night."  If one could die from awkwardness... He shut the door and went to put his stuff in the guest bathroom. It was a half bath, so he could only imagine how bad the shower situation was going to be in the morning.  He texted Bryce that Luba had arrived.  He was driving down tomorrow afternoon to work with them.  He felt like it was probably too late to text Sarah, but he did anyway.

 **Dylan** :  She's here.  We'll see.

 **Sarah** :  That doesn't sound good.

 **Dylan** :  Maybe it will be fine.  She's tiny.

 **Sarah** :  You knew that.

 **Dylan** :  She's Russian.

 **Sarah** : What's the matter, weirdo?

 **Dylan** :  Nothing.  I hope I haven't made a huge mistake.

 **Sarah** :  No one will die if this doesn't work out.

 **Dylan** :  That's true.  I think she really wants it to, though.

 **Sarah** :  But that's good!  Don't worry.

 **Dylan** : See you Saturday.  Sooner if it's a disaster.

 **Sarah** :  See you. Tell me as soon as you know something tomorrow.

 **Dylan** :  Okay.  Sleep well.

 **Sarah** :  You, too.

He turned over and shut his eyes.  He usually had no trouble sleeping, but there were too many thoughts in his head.  He pulled out his phone and clicked through a day's worth of posts until he finally drifted off.

His alarm woke him at seven-thirty.  He went to the bathroom and then listened at her door.  He thought he heard something, so he tapped.  He heard footsteps, and then it opened with her dressed and ready to go.

"Good morning, Dylan," she said cheerily.

"Morning, Luba.  I guess I'll get a shower..."

"Yes."

"There's TV in the living room if you want...I'll get breakfast stuff out when I'm done, unless you're really hungry now?"

"No, that's good.  I'll watch the TV."

He took a quick shower, remembering when he was already in, that his stuff was in the living room.  He borrowed some shampoo and soap and hoped Mitch and Alex's towels were really big.  He wrapped one around him and made the shameful walk, but she hardly looked up from the news program she was watching.  He dressed quickly and came out.

"I got some yogurt--that's what I usually have.  I could make you an egg?"

"I have for breakfast...uh, hot...uh," She was searching for the word.

"I downloaded this ap," he showed her his phone.  "It translates Russian to English and vice..."

She took the phone and click, click, clicked into a Cyrillic alphabet mode he didn't realize he had.  "This is what I have..porridge?" She pronounced it like _porreed_ , and he had to look at the word.

"Porridge!  That's like oatmeal, I think.  I eat it all winter.  Let me see if Alex and Mitch have some..." He made an unsuccessful search.  "We'll get some for tomorrow.  Today would you like some yogurt?  I have some fresh berries and some protein granola on top?"

"Okay," she laughed.

He fixed two yogurts and handed her one.

"Is very good."

"Sorry about the porridge."

"Is good.  My...Mama. She makes me the porridge everyday," she smiled and rolled her eyes. "Am probably too old."

"No, my mom is the same way.  When I'm home, she makes me eat about five times a day."  He put some sandwiches together and grabbed some fruit. "Do you need a water bottle?"  She had one in her bag with her skates.  They brushed their teeth in separate bathrooms and then headed out the door.

"Beautiful, beautiful weather!  Is still grey in Moscow. And cold."

"The next month is usually the nicest all year here and Toronto.  And if you like it here, you would love Toronto.  It's cleaner and the people are nicer." He laughed.  "It's home."

"I hope I get to see it," she said with a big grin. 

The rink was only a few miles away, and Luba seemed to find every block fascinating, just like last night except in better light.

"Most of the skaters are on vacation right now, so we should have a lot of room today," Dylan told her as they parked in the big lot.

"Everybody drive to the rink?  No buses or trains?"

"Not really here.  This is the suburbs, so not great public transportation.  I'm sure there are buses in Detroit--don't know about trains.  We have great public transport in Toronto, though.  I swear I'm not on the payroll," he laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"Just a joke.  They don't pay me to say good things about Toronto."

She smiled at him, but he wasn't sure if she really understood.  He opened the big, heavy door for her and they walked into the lobby.  As Dylan suspected, the place was pretty deserted.  He showed her where the locker rooms were and gave her a key to a locker he had rented for her.  He went to the office to check in, and he saw her walked in the locker room with her skates.  Wasting no time--probably for the best to see if this had any potential.  Jeremy Abbott was the only person Dylan recognized.  The two had talked the day before when Dylan was filling out the paperwork and paying for the time.  Jeremy was on the ice but stopped in his tracks and was staring as Luba walked by.  He looked over at Dylan with wide eyes and skated toward the boards.

"Dude!" Jeremy yelled.  "When you said you were trying out with a Russian skater..." his mouth was agape.  Dylan walked over, hoping Luba was too far in to the locker room to overhear this.

"That was Lubov Iliushechkina," he sounded incredulous. "Right?"

"Luba, yeah. Do you know her?"

"Dylan.  Are you serious?"

"Yeah?"

"She's like...a goddess.  She's the great lost hope, you know?  Like tragically untapped potential.  Wait until Angelika sees her. How did you pull this off?"

"I Facebooked her," Dylan laughed.

"You did NOT!"

"I did.  We've been Facebook friends for years."

"You just got two million times more interesting, Moscovitch.  No offense."

"Oh, of course not." Dylan punched Jeremy in the arm.  "I guess I'll go get my skates.  Don't want to keep the goddess waiting."  Said goddess walked out just then on the most pitiful skates Dylan had seen on a senior skater in...ever.  They were taped together.  He could tell she had coated them in white shoe polish as a matter of pride, so he tried not to stare. 

Jeremy greeted her and started touring her around the ice as Dylan laced up his skates.  He met them at the boards.

"I'll leave you to it," Jeremy looked at Dylan, "Be careful with her," he admonished.

"He's so nice.  I thought he would be from skating.  He had that awful..." Luba took Dylan's hand, and they started to stroke across the ice.

"Yeah, that was bad."  Jeremy had crashed into the boards during his short program at the Olympics but had finished the program and earned the respect of the Russian crowd.  Dylan noticed Luba was matching him stride for stride. 

"How often do you skate?" He asked her.

"Six days a week.  Only a few hours by myself.  Almost never with a partner."

"I've only been coaching this month.  I've skated a little at the Cricket Club, but not much.  Bryce is coming this afternoon to watch and help, but I thought we could run through some basics before he got here."

"Okay."

He took her in Killian hold, and they sped up a bit, still skating in sync. "Back?" He said and she turned expertly on an edge with him, not missing a beat.  They skated a lap backwards and then edged into a turn again.  "Try some spins?"

They went through their spin vocabularies.  Hers was more extensive, and her positions were gorgeous.  He would have to struggle to match them.  For the first time he realized this might not work _not_ because she had been out of the game for two years, but because she was fundamentally better than him.  His fierce  competitive side took over then.  He did his old Kirsten spin sequence to the last rotation.  He looked over and saw her match him perfectly, except her position in the sit-spin was a thousand times better.  She added a new one at the end--she grabbed her toe-pick and rotated in an arabesque a la seconde. 

"Now, you're just showing off!" He skated over and grabbed her around the waist.

"You try, Dylan!" She insisted with a giggle.  "Take from sit-spin, like this," she whipped back into the crouch and spun fast, and then showed him how to grab the blade while rising into the proper form. "Try!" She ordered.

He did.  He could get into the proper stance--ballet lessons paying off huge--but he slowed way down.

"Push from hips strong," she ordered, and placed him down again, crouching on the ice with him and pushing on the left side of his ass with both hands.  "That's it, open, open, and yes!  Now let's try whole thing."

"Flying camel?"

"Yes."  She took his hand and skated up with him about ten yards.  "And go!"  They skated fifteen strokes and then flew into the camel spin, sit spin, side arabesque.  She slowed down considerably to match him, and they finished spot perfect. "Good job!" She put her arms around his waist from behind.  Jeremy gave them a standing O from behind the boards, and Dylan waved him off. 

"Alright, we have our first element!" He laughed with her.  "Wanna jump?"

"Now you ruin the mood," she pouted.  "Going so well."

"Toe loop?"

"Okay," she sounded a bit deflated.  She skated off in her own world going through some elaborate prep.  Finally she vaulted up and landed a small but respectable toe loop.

"That's great!"  She looked at him like _don't flatter me_.  He did his own prep and let her keep practicing.  His own jump was huge.  They were going to have to try to meet in the middle.  "Let's just talk it through, okay.  Don't worry about it. Let's just see what happens." He took her hand and talked her through a jump sequence like they would do in the short.  They marked the jump until they both felt comfortable with the rhythm. "One, two, hop and skip, turn and hop and..." That's where the jump would be.  She wanted to practice the jump some more on her own before they went for the whole thing. He watched her jump again and again, quietly berating herself when she wasn't perfect. 

"Okay, let's try," she said finally, with palpable nerves.

"Hey, it's no big deal.  I mess up jumps all the time.  It's going to be fine."  He took her hand again. "One, two hop..." she was saying it with him, "and skip and turn and..." She landed a beautiful triple toe loop with her gorgeous free leg perfectly parallel to the ice on the landing.

"Good lord, Luba, how do you do that with your leg?"

"This?" She stuck her leg straight out behind her.

"Yeah, that.  I have hours of ballet in store for me," he said.  He realized he was assuming that this was going to happen.  He hadn't thrown or even lifted her yet.  But he loved the way she worked.  He loved the way her body looked on the ice.  He felt like he was in.  They had been on the ice together for an hour and a half.  They worked on jumps and spins, and then decided to go off ice and start working on lifts before Bryce got there.  They took off their skates and found a practice room with floor mats and mirror.  Dylan saw that Luba needed new trainers as well.

But the quality of her footwear said nothing about her ability on the floor.  She leapt up into the lasso entry and propped herself up on his one arm, holding herself upright with only her core strength.  She was doing half the work on this lift--something Dylan had heard about but had never experienced.  He started rotating and she folded backwards like an inverted oyster and grabbed one foot behind her. She did a full twist on the dismount and practically placed her leg in his hand. He obediently put his leg in an arabesque to match, which, of course, it didn't.

"Okay!" She said, "Try the star?"  They did.  She stuck up there like she could hang out on his hand all day.

"Try the lunge?"  It was his signature lift with Kirsten.  There was no fucking way Marinaro could pull it off, so he supposed it was his property now.

"Yes! Your famous lift."

They started face to face with both hands gripping, him in a lunge with his knee on the floor while she was one her feet bent over.  He pressed her up easily, again with her doing half the work.  When she was solid he rose to his feet, again easily.  She was so lithe and willowy with legs longer than her torso, and she could hold her own weight so well, it was...well, not effortless...but certainly easy. She stuck up there and then cart-wheeled down gracefully.  She was laughing.

"So much fun, Dylan!  I haven't been lifted in very long."

"It is fun," he replied.  It was great.  He was sold, hooked.  They continued working on the floor until they were famished, and they were eating their packed lunch when Bryce arrived.  As soon as Luba left to use the ladies' room and get ready for the afternoon session, Dylan cornered him.

"You won't believe this.  I don't want to oversell it, but you won't believe it.  The spin she got me to do...and we can jump, and the lifts on the floor,"

Bryce looked at him and laughed, "Yeah, slow down.  I'm glad you think it's good."

They laced up their skates again and got back out on the ice with Bryce this time. He had them go through an extensive warm up to show him all the skills and their rhythm.  Dylan could tell he was impressed.  They did some more jump practice and then the side-by-side spin ending the way Luba had shown him. Then they took the lifts to the ice, carefully with Bryce spotting.  Some young students and their parents had started to arrive for afternoon classes, and there were gasps when Dylan and Luba got the lifts up.  Bryce gave Dylan a look that said, yep, this is something.

They had been working all day and were getting physically exhausted.  Bryce advised them to stop for the day.  They sat down in a conference room and went over the plan for the next day:  twist, throws and death spirals.

"I haven't been thrown in a long time.  I will do my best," Luba warned.

"Luba, you don't have to be perfect.  You are wonderful," Bryce assured her.

"Yeah, let's just see where we are.  Throws take time," Dylan added.  "Let's go back to Mitch and Alex's.  They have a grill, and I have some chicken to put on it."  They grabbed their stuff, checked out at the office and headed back to the apartment with Bryce following in his car.

"If he's staying in apartment, you two take the bed, and I have the couch," Luba told him in the car.

Dylan laughed. "He's staying at Patrick Chan's, thank god, I don't have to share a bed with him." Luba laughed with him.

She headed in to shower while the guys got the grill ready.  Bryce cracked open a beer, but Dylan stuck to water.

"The joys of retirement," Bryce said as he clinked his beer bottle against Dylan's water.

"You may be a day too late to convince me," Dylan replied.

"Yeah, Dylan, it looks good."

"Better than I could have hoped for, man."

"You were stressed out last night."

Dylan shook his head in agreement.  "I had this panic of all of this money I had put in, and what if it came to nothing, but..." He shook his head and smiled.

"She's something.  But you knew that when you contacted her."

"I know, it just happened so fast.  This is all going so fast. I should be training elements with Kirsten, you know."

Luba didn't return until the food was almost ready.  She was wearing a short skirt and had curled her hair around her face.  She was wearing makeup and looked closer to her age.

"Wow," Bryce said.

"You look great.  Showin' me up still," Dylan indicated his practice clothes.

"Feel more human, finally, since plane," Luba said.

They ate and talked about skating gossip.  Luba was friends with Elena Ilinykh and had the scoop on the breakup with her partner Nikita.

"Now THAT was shocking," Dylan said.

"Not that shocking," Luba replied.  "She was with Nikita then broke up to be with coach, and then they broke up.  You and Kirsten was shocking."

"That _was_ shocking," Bryce played along.

"It totally was.  I keep thinking I'll wake up and remember something I said or did or something..."

"She was crazy," Luba said, and Dylan felt quite touched.

"Well, thank you. Spasiba," he said and Luba smiled.

Bryce headed over to Chan's for the night.  Luba and Dylan cleaned up, and then she borrowed his iPad to email her parents.  Dylan texted Sarah.

 **Dylan** :  That went well.

 **Sarah** : Yay! I was thinking of you all day.

 **Dylan** : She is very, very good.

 **Sarah** :  That makes me so happy.  Send a picture?

 **Dylan** :  We didn't take one.

 **Sarah** :  Take one now!

Dylan walked over to the table where she was sitting.  "My girlfriend wants a picture of us," he said almost apologetically. Luba leaned in and smiled for the selfie.

 **Sarah** :  She's beautiful!

 **Dylan** :  She can skate.  I can't wait to see you Saturday...

 **Sarah** :  Me, too.  Good night...

Luba came over and sat on the far end of the couch. "How long have you been with your girlfriend?"

"About a year."  Dylan showed a picture of Sarah to Luba.

"She's beautiful." Dylan did a slight double-take.  This was a bit weird.  "What's her name?" Luba asked.

"Sarah."

"Hey, Sarah!" Luba said to the picture. "You don't live with her?" She said to Dylan.

"No.  I just moved back to Toronto.  I'm with my parents, and hopefully will get an apartment soon." That was optimistic.  He had saved the money from winning the silver medal and had a little prize money left over from last season, but he would have to put all of that into their training, if this worked out.  He didn't want her to know his current dire financial situation, though.  "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No.  Very single.  I was seeing someone this winter, but it didn't work out.  I live hour from Moscow, so guys in my neighborhood..." she gestured her arms searching for a word, "I'm not there much, and guys from Moscow don't want to go on train for an hour to get to my house. So single.  But so busy lately anyway.  No time." She smiled and yawned.  "Am very tired," she said adorably through a yawn.  "Today was so much fun!"

"Well, go to bed and we'll start again tomorrow." They stood up and hugged, and then she walked into the bedroom.

He rinsed off in the sink and brushed his teeth.  He hit the couch and went right to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Luba**

**May 2014**

 

And on the second day, they landed a triple throw.  It was the stamp on the letter.  She raised her head, made a wide curve on a secure edge, fanned out her free leg, went full-out on the port de bras, and breathed real life into a partnership.

They didn't skate to center ice, shake hands, and sign a legal document; but they could have.  It was that clear they were entering the next phase of this process.  Dylan looked like he had climbed a mountain.  Bryce looked like he was the proud father of a healthy new baby.  She felt like belting out an aria, and did in her head.  There really was an operatic feel to this moment.

They had spent the morning an death spirals to warm up to the main event.  The required variety this year was forward inside, and they worked through that with no problems.  Luba hadn't completed one in a while, but muscle memory was strong. She showed how much she could stretttttttch into a nice position, and Bryce looked pleased.  They ran a few other possibilities for the long with no issues.  Dylan was secure in all of them. Luba was incredibly impressed by his skill.  She hadn't heard a lot of great things about the North American school (although Dylan would point out later that there wasn't _one_ program; that the individual coaches were quite varied), and there were aspects that Luba found quite lacking.  Dylan had a tendency to rush through movement and not take a moment to finish, but he was so strong and so solid in the basic technique. 

They hadn't gone straight to triple throws, but they worked their way up: practicing the rhythm, trying singles and then doubles, and then throwing it all down.

They stopped again at noon to eat their sandwiches and have a strategy session.

"Luba, I want to continue with this.  I think this is working."

"You want to be partner?" She asked with a little smile.

"I do.  Do you?" 

It felt a little like in primary school, age eleven or so, when a boy asked you to dance at an official school party, and you knew he was asking because it was expected of him, but you also felt like he kinda wanted to anyway.  There were a few butterflies in her stomach.

"Yes, Dylan.  I want...I want to skate with you for Canada."  She felt like she sounded really stupid, like on those bachelorette shows, but he came around to her side of the table and hugged her.

"Yay," he said, and she laughed. 

Bryce took over then.  "Luba, any idea when the Canadian visa will come through?"

"They said six to eight weeks, and I applied three weeks ago--the Monday after I first talked to Dylan."

"That's great.  I'm talking to Lee, and he's ready to go at the Cricket as soon as you can get to Toronto.  In the mean time..."

"We'll stay here and rely on the kindness of friends," Dylan laughed.

"I have to be back in Moscow on 20 July," Luba reminded them.

"Yeah, we'll just transfer your return for then, and then get you a one-way ticket back," Dylan said. "Hopefully to Toronto by then."

Bryce headed back to Canada that afternoon leaving a check list of things for them to work on and promised to be on-call if they needed him.  It was a weird feeling for Luba to be here in a strange country with no one but Dylan to rely on, but she trusted him implicitly.  She shouldn't, she realized.  Experience had shown her that things don't usually work out, and that only members of your family really care what happens to you, but she couldn't help it.  She trusted Dylan.

Dylan had already paid for an afternoon session at the rink, so they used it and started working on the twist for the first time.  They had completely different rhythms, and they struggled a little bit.  Luba was happy they they had solidified the partnership before they ran these, but Dylan had a good spirit about it. 

"If we can get the timing--we could do quads eventually.  You fly up there, Luba.  I just have to work on catching you."

The twist had been one of Nodari's best elements, and they hadn't gotten so far as to discuss quads.  Dylan's optimism was amusing but a little frightening.

Dylan worked out a deal with rink management to get ice time through mid-June in hopes her visa would be here by then.  They gave him a cut rate.  Everyone here seemed to be Dylan's friend.  How many friends did he have?

"I have been doing this a long, long time.  A lot of these people have stayed with me over the years, or stayed at my parents' house in Toronto.  The community is very small, really."

"But this isn't Canada, and you have all friends here?"

"It's really close to Canada," he laughed, "And a lot of these people are Canadian.  And the Americans, we grew up with, too."

But Luba could tell it was something more.  Dylan had a personality that made people root for him, even the American manager of this rink who had no stake in their success.  He was outgoing and very, very funny, but he was also kind.  She wondered for the hundredth time what was wrong with Kirsten.

"I know people from Ukraine, but I can't go to rink in Ukraine and have all friends and supporters."

Dylan laughed.  "The relationship between Canada and the States is not the same as..."

"I didn't mean the politics--well, not the political politics, but I guess skating politics would be similar?"

"I don't think so.  There is competition between Canada and the U.S.--ice dance is brutal--but it's mostly a friendly rivalry.  And there are many people who cross the border to be on a team like Josh, so...It's not the same."

"I think people just like you."

"Well, it doesn't hurt to be nice to people, usually.  Not that I'm always nice, but I try to treat people well."

They were driving to the grocery store while discussing this, and again Luba was amazed when he turned in to a giant parking lot.

"This is just food here?"

"You can get other stuff, like soap and toilet paper and stuff like that, but it's cheaper to get that at other stores.  It's mostly just food." He got an enormous cart and pushed it to a section as big as a shop at home, but filled only with produce. Dylan told her to pick out some favorites, but it was overwhelming.  She found the fresh berries she had enjoyed on her yogurt the past mornings and let him pick the rest. 

He got a lot of chicken and turkey in different forms--raw to grill, from the deli for sandwiches.  He picked up about ten different items with high protein and helped her select some oatmeal, which didn't seem exactly like porridge, but looked good.  She didn't understand how the prices in dollars related to Russian prices, but it seemed like a lot of money at the register.  He swiped a card without a word, though, and they loaded the groceries in the back of his big vehicle and drove off.  Luba pretended to be very American riding beside him in her sunglasses high above the street, but it was awfully strange. 

Mitch and Alex had a washer and dryer in a large closet in their apartment, and she only had a few items of workout clothes, so Dylan showed her how to load it and then asked if she wanted to "run and do strength" with him.  She wasn't sure what that was going to be, but they jogged to a nearby park and then ran for half an hour.  She had to stop and walk several times, but he kept a steady pace.  She would have to work on this.  When he had run for what seemed like forever, he did pull-ups on some kids' equipment and she tried a few, too, and he helped her with her form.  He did some pushups, and then asked her to crouch on his back, and he pushed them both up and down. 

"So now we work on flexibility?" She suggested with a grin, and he was happy to oblige.  He had some ballet and yoga training, but he needed more stretch.  She took him through basic exercises, and then showed off her hyper extended splits, which terrified him.  They also worked on stretching back muscles, and she showed him how far she could bend backwards.

"That's unreal, Luba.  That's just... The lifts we're going to be able to do..."  And he was right.  With his strength and her flexibility---she couldn't wait to experiment.  They jogged back to the apartment, and she helped Dylan put a dinner together.  They ate on the deck, which had a lovely view of the parking lot, but the weather was beautiful and light for early evening.  They chatted about people at the rink, and then Dylan looked at her seriously.

"You eat very well, Luba, but you're so small..."

She looked at him levelly.  She guessed it was inevitable that this would come up, but she was tired of talking about it and having to think about it.

"I'm fine," she said, and she hoped he realized she didn't want to discuss it.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up.  I struggle with it, too, but I know it's harder for girls."

"Why do you think it's harder?" She actually agreed with him, but bringing up the topic pissed her off and now she was in a challenging mood.

"Kirsten had to deal with a lot of shit--like any time we messed up a twist especially, our coach would imply or just outright question if she was being careful about her weight.  And she weighs...not very much."

"Kirsten has beautiful muscle...  Her jumps are great," Luba said.

"I know, and that's the thing that I think everyone struggles with, like--If I eat too little, it messes up lifts.  If I eat too much, it messes up jumps."

"And exact opposite for me," Luba replied.  "You are too heavy.  You have no muscle for jumps.  You eat. Don't eat. You are anorexic."

"I know.  I'm sorry to bring it up, but it's what I have to think about every day.  There used to be an off-season, you know, when you could go eat burgers and ice cream and drink beer, but lately, it just doesn't stop.  We literally started laying down program components this year two days after we got back from Worlds."

"And so the protein obsession?" Luba teased him.

"Exactly." He laughed.  "I know it's a sore subject, Luba.  I just think it's better to talk about stuff."

"My experience has been, though, not talk with people, but be talked at by coaches, by federation people, by directors...I don't...I haven't had talks with people except my family.  And they are much more concerned about my health than my skating."

"That's really good, though," Dylan was leaning in to listen to her.

"I don't mind just talking to you about it. You don't treat me like a child or like a problem."

"I don't see how you could ever be a problem, Luba," he said, and it made her blush. She was glad it was getting darker, but the mosquitoes were coming out, so Dylan and Luba retreated inside.  The laundry was finished, so she cleaned up with Dylan and then folded their clothes and towels and felt very domestic. She was playing house, like she was playing American girl in Dylan's car.  It was fun and a little bit thrilling after a long semester in very cold Moscow and hours and hours on trains and too much reading and writing and thinking, but it wasn't exactly real.  What they were doing on the ice, though, was real, and she had to do everything to be at her best there.

They spent the next two days working at the rink, on and off the ice.  Dylan took her through a real strength workout that he did three or four times a week in the weight room.  She did some work, too, and then again insisted that he work on flexibility.  The jump training continued to be her biggest struggle, and she was so frustrated that it took so much effort for not great results.  She berated herself, and Dylan would tell her to stop.  She tried to keep it inside of her.

Sarah drove down Saturday, and of course she was impossibly beautiful and confident. She brought lots of things for them that they might need: more clothes for Dylan and his laptop.  She also had a bag for Luba that Dylan's mom and sisters had put together that included some clothes from his sisters and another laptop for her to use.  She was astonished.  Papa had worked with computers his whole career, and they'd never had one at home. 

"They gave me a computer?" She was incredulous.

"It's an old, used laptop of Kyra's.  It's probably terrible.  I told them you needed to be able to communicate with your friends and family.  You can get something new when we get funding."

Luba knew this was actually _if_ we get funding, but she was blown-over with gratitude.  The clothes were all too big, but the workout stuff was usable. 

Sarah and Dylan were the same height and looked liked celebrities together.  They insisted that she go out with them to dinner, and so she put on her one nice outfit and tried not to feel like a third wheel.

"I'm perfectly okay to stay here," she told him while Sarah was back at the hotel getting ready for dinner.

"I hate to leave you by yourself tonight, but I'm not abandoning you for dinner."

"I'll be fine."  She was actually looking forward to being by herself and trying out the laptop.  Dylan had a Netflix account, and she had already scoped out some things on his iPad.  She also wanted to get started writing her letter to the Russian skating federation to request her release.  She and Dylan had been throwing around possible arguments for days.

"And in the end, I had to transfer to Canada to skate with a Moscovitch," Dylan had said in his silly Russian accent, "I'm sure you will appreciate the irony."

"I'm not sure humor will be good..."

"Yeah? How about veiled Geo-political threats?"

"Would they take seriously coming from Canada?"

"Good point.  Release me or Stephen Harper will give you a very scolding look."

"Scary."

If Sarah was annoyed that Luba was crashing their date, she didn't let on.  She asked Luba question after question and seemed genuinely interested in the answers.  Luba tried to ask her questions, too, but Sarah mostly deflected it back.  Dylan was somewhat different around his girlfriend.  He was a little bit quieter and let Sarah take the lead.  It was gentlemanly, she thought.  It made Luba really want to meet the rest of his family and see for herself what they were like.

After dinner, Sarah went back to the hotel and Dylan drove Luba to their little home.  Mitch and Alex would be back in town next week, so they would be moving to another Canadian skater's apartment. 

"I don't feel right leaving you," he said.

"So silly, Dylan. I'm happy to be by myself."

"Need a little time away from me?" He laughed.

Yes, but she didn't want him to think her ungrateful.  "Of course not.  You have good night with Sarah, I'll be fine."

He walked her to the door and told he'd be back in the morning. 

"Go, go!"

"Okay, I get it.  I just hate to leave you without a phone.  I'm putting you on my plan first thing Monday.  I should have done it yesterday.  Facebook me, I guess, if you need anything."

"Dylan, I will be fine."  She closed the door behind him and sunk on to the couch. Dylan was off to spend the night with his sexy girlfriend, but she had about five seasons of _Grey's Anatomy_ to devour.  She had watched through season four in Russia, and here she was in America watching it in English.  She clicked on the English subtitles so she could hear and see the words simultaneously.  She justified all of this TV time by counting it as English study.  Before she went to bed, she put on some music she loved and danced joyfully through the apartment, spending a lot of time at the bathroom mirror watching herself and cracking herself up.  

"Luba, you lucky girl!" she play-shouted in Russian to her reflection.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Dylan**

**June 2014**

 

Every day was visa watch.  At some point, Luba had realized that she forgot to include a self-addressed stamped envelope in her application, so that caused momentary panic. The Canadian consulate in Detroit was now on the case and promised to call them as soon as the visa arrived.  So they stayed in Michigan and waited.

They moved from Mitch and Alex's to Elladj Balde's apartment while he was on tour in Japan.  Elladj was the complete opposite from Mitch and Alex in terms of cleanliness and organization, and Luba had groaned audibly at first site of the place and then cleaned it from top to bottom.  Dylan wondered if they should mess it up before they left as to not insult their generous host.

Dylan considered himself a go-getter and a bit of a hustler.  He had met his match.  By the third week in Detroit, Luba had worked a deal with rink management for her to work in the afternoons at the front desk, greeting the young skaters and their parents, and collecting money for their lessons.  Her English wasn't quite there for her to answer the phone, but she had figured out the accounting system, and could enter the payments and send out late notices.  She told them she was willing to clean and sell snacks if they could take some more money off their ice fees, but the manager told her that the office work was enough.  Dylan would hear her husky, cheery voice greeting all who entered while he worked in the weight room in the late afternoons.

Then they would head to the waterfront and run for increasing time intervals and do strength and flexibility together, hit the grocery store or just go home and fix dinner.  She had revamped their shopping.

"Bag of apples is cheaper than just buying four, Dylan.  Whole chicken is cheaper than buying breasts, Dylan.  Oatmeal cost 85 cents less than yogurt for bowl, Dylan."  Somehow now he was eating oatmeal every day and had learned to grill a whole chicken.  He did remind her that he had somehow managed his money for ten years without her.

"You had funding then, Dylan." 

After dinner they would watch two episodes of _Grey's Anatomy_ and then hit the sack/couch.  He had only watched bits and pieces of the series over the years being at home with his sisters or with various girlfriends, but now he was fully ensconced in the world of Seattle Grace, even debating Luba over who was the right man for Cristina.

"Burke was soul mate. She need to get him back," was Luba's opinion.

"Burke left her at the altar!  He completely shut himself off from her emotionally.  Owen gets her!  They're both total badasses."

"Owen almost killed her!"

"He's getting help for the PTSD."

"Won't end well.  Burke is soul mate."

On the ice, they were progressing.  He looked forward to jumps least because they stressed her out.  They were still having issues with the twist rhythm and weren't trying triples yet. He felt that was entirely his fault and was trying to learn Nodari's rhythm and technique.  It was a slow process.

Most of the time, though, it was interesting and fun.  Their coaching experience gave them the tools to teach each other and help each other with technique.  They had learned in very different systems but were very agreeable to meet in the middle.  She was incredibly patient with him trying to learn the twist, and he refused to allow her to beat herself up over jumps.  They also trusted each other enough to be able to dole out healthy constructive criticism.  This was new for Dylan.  He had been very protective of Kirsten's feelings in training because she hated being thought of as the junior partner.  She didn't respond well to correction when she was trying her best, and he had completely taken himself out of that role, even stepping up to Kris and telling him to lay off her when the point had been made.

He was doing a lot of thinking about that partnership.  He still felt hurt by Kirsten, and he didn't think she had made a wise decision, but he was beginning to understand it. He and his sister had been twenty-four and fifteen when Kyra had to stop training because of her back condition.  His family desperately hoped that with another opinion and a better doctor, they were going to get a different prognosis.  Kyra would take the rest of the season off, and then the Moscovitch sibs would be back for the next season finally eligible for international competition.  They'd sat out the last two seasons because she was too young for seniors and he was too old for juniors.  Their time had finally come...and Kyra got hit with horrible news.

So Kyra was out rehabbing and hoping, and Kris put Dylan with one of Kyra's best friends so Kirsten could learn, and Dylan could keep training.  And then, of course, it took a sharp turn.  Kyra wouldn't be able to come back.  Dylan and Kirsten clicked.  No new partners were found.  Kyra and his mother had been devastated.  Kyra felt betrayed by Kirsten.  Dylan knew that was unfair, but his mother's sympathies lay with Kyra. The truth was that Kirsten was a better match for him in size.  Kyra was only three inches shorter than he was, and she was still growing.  He could lift her, but it was awkward and he sometimes struggled.  He could pop Kirsten up with half the effort.  This was not something he could talk to his mom and sister about if he didn't want to have to sleep in the back yard.

The partnership had obviously not started ideally, but it progressed well, he thought.  He played pretty much the same role with Kirsten that he had with Kyra:  leader and big brother.  It seemed to work great.  Three years ago, Kirsten had sat him down with the coaches and told them that she was an adult, and she was tired of being treated like the little sister.  He did everything he could to treat her like an equal and make sure she was in on team decisions.  She told him she often felt like they were patronizing her.  He tried not to.  She was hurt that Kyra and his mom were cold to her.  He talked to them about that, and his mom at least made a real effort to be kind to Kirsten. 

After they had a bad showing at Nationals in 2012 and missed both the podium and the world team, he heard through the rink grapevine that Kirsten wanted to skate with her boyfriend at the time, a highly ranked junior.  He dismissed the rumors--she showed up for training every day and worked with him to rebuild for next season.  But now he thought that it had probably been true.  Kirsten had weighed the pros and cons and decided that she was more likely to be successful with Dylan in the short term than she would with another partner.  But Dylan suspected the dye had been cast at that point.  Kirsten wanted a partnership where she would be a true equal.

And here he was in one just like that with someone who was only slightly older than Kirsten. But his relationship with Luba was totally different.  Not having a coach present, they had to teach each other, learn together and cooperate on everything. There was no one there to suggest a compromise or even a timeout.  They had to hash it through themselves.  And he loved being able to say whatever was on his mind without risking hurt feelings.

She seemed to enjoy the same thing judging by her comments to him.

"Why your butt out all the time?"

"My butt is not out all the time--I have to stick it out when I throw..."

She would then show him ten videos of Russian men throwing their partners without their butts sticking out.

"How you have eighteen years of ballet and can't stick your butt in?"

"What do you have against my ass?"

"Nothing against ass, just needs to be tucked in."

"You hate my big, Canadian ass."

"I like big Canadian ass to be here," and she would push it in without blushing.

They were no doubt at their best playing around with lifts.  They were working on one where she would get herself into a vertical doughnut at the end of his hand with their faces pressed together.  When they got it up on the ice, it was one of those moments when everyone stopped what they were doing to look on.  They had Mitch take a picture of the lift and send to Bryce, who texted back a string of exclamation points.

He was processing all of this out in his head on a Friday night run by the water.  He was staying a few paces behind Luba, who could now keep up with him easily on runs.  He was trying not to look at her perfect, tiny, Russian ass.  His life was in enough chaos without even thinking about that.

That very moment he was supposed to be in St. Barts with Sarah.  Her sister was getting married there tomorrow, and they had been planning this trip since right after the Olympics.  They would be there a few days before the wedding, and then on Monday, they would do their own trip around the islands completely by themselves for a week.  He had arranged with Kirsten months ago to plan their vacations for this week.  Sarah was taking very rare time off work; she hadn't even considered going to Sochi. And then his life flipped on top of itself, but he still planned to take this week and a half.  Luba could stay in Toronto with his folks and train with Lee and Bryce.  And then there was no visa.

He told Sarah he would fly down for the wedding, but he couldn't leave Luba alone in Detroit for almost two weeks.  He just couldn't.  Sarah did not understand.

"You clearly just don't want to go."

"How could you think that?  I've been looking forward to this since February!"

"Obviously not, or you would still be planning on going."

"Sarah!  Can you imagine being in Moscow for over a week with no car and just a few acquaintances and a rather tenuous immigration situation?  I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy."

"Oh, come on!  You would come back after vacation, and she would be the assistant manager of the Detroit Skating Club.  She might be mayor of Detroit."

"They could do worse."

"I'm not joking with you, Dylan."

"I know.  I'm sorry, Sarah.  Can we postpone it to August or September?"

She wouldn't. Her sister was getting married now, and she wouldn't take off time later in the summer.  She told him not to come to the wedding and recruited a friend to take the vacation with her.  She had paid for the whole thing, any way, and while she had never brought this up, it was lying there just under the surface. They weren't broken up, but there was a massive crack that he wasn't sure could be repaired.  If she could view his skating like she did her career, he felt like she would understand why he couldn't take off then.  And why he really shouldn't leave in August or September either.  She was still talking to him, but it was very tense.

He and Luba had made their loop and were doing push-ups in the park.  She got on his back for a little more resistance.  Then she took him through a series of stretches he suspected might hinder his ability to father children one day.

"Is Friday," she said with a smile in her voice.

"Treat day," he answered.  After the conversation they had about figure skating problems, they had decided that they earned a treat on Fridays.  They'd had cheeseburgers the first one; he had eaten his and at least half of hers.  The next Friday had been ice cream--she held her own much better on that one, and today it was time for their third treat.  "Beer?"

She wrinkled her nose.  "You have to drink how much beer to have effect? Much cheaper and easier with vodka, Dylan."

"Vodka!  Hello, stereotype!"

"Stereotype?"

"Look it up," he teaser her, and she typed with whirring speed on her phone.  She smiled when she understood the word.

"There is reason for some stereotypes."

An hour later, they were back at Chan's--by far the nicest of all of their temporary dwellings--sitting on the floor in his living room with a fifth of Smirnoff and two shot glasses in front of them.  Dylan had sliced a lemon and had some sugar for lemon drops, but she shook her head and was ready to take it straight.

"Before every shot, you have to tell something the other person doesn't know about you," she instructed.

"I'm an open book.  You know everything about me."

"Doubt it.  You go first."

"So I have to...?"

"Tell me something I don't know.  Not hard," she admonished him.

"Okay," the earlier train of thought emerged.  Not too dangerous.  "Kirsten sometimes annoyed me." He bit on a lemon wedge, licked some sugar off of his hand and took the shot.  Eugh.

She was busy on that phone.  "Annoy?  What partners don't get annoy...annoyed.  Partners throw skates at each other...that's more than annoyed," she rolled her eyes. 

"I never threw skates at her."

"I know! What you did, tell her you don't like little dog or something?  Tell her pink isn't your favorite color?"

"No, I always just swallowed it, but sometimes she could drive me a little crazy."

"That's not a good one.  Everyone knows partners annoy.  You do better next time."

"I'll try.  Your turn."

"Okay.  You know I love Canada?"

"Sure.  You've got a big maple leaf tattoo somewhere?"

"No, just listen, Dylan. I loooove Canada.  I want to move to Canada after Skate Canada in, you know..."

"2010."

"Yes!  Love it!  But before that, I didn't really like Canada."

"No?"

"No, thought Canada were cry...whiners, you know?"

"Cry babies? What the hell?" He laughed.

"Made IOC give you another gold medal and make Elena and Anton not look like champions."

"BUT YOU CHEATED!  Jamie and David were robbed! They _had_ to give them another gold medal!"

"No way were Canadians better than Elena and Anton!  Elements don't even compare! Under COP..."

"Invalid argument!  If they were under COP, Jamie and David would have a different program.  You can't judge them with a system they weren't even competing under!  And they were perfect!  The Russians had bobbles."

"You can't possibly think that Canadians were better than Elena and Anton.  You are pairs skater!  You know better!"

"Hey, Jamie and David are friends of mine..."

"Still not better."

"Ugh, take your shot, Luba."

She shot it down like it was water.  "Your turn," she smacked her glass on the table.

"I wish I was farther along at university.  I wasted a lot of time in my late teens and early twenties.  I wish I had been more focused. I'm really jealous that you are almost finished and you're seven years younger."  He sucked the lemon, licked the sugar and took the shot.  Still shudder. "Your turn."

"I was very jealous of Nodari's new partner, and now she's sick," Luba took her shot without joy.  She had heard earlier in the week that the young skater was being treated for anorexia.

"Let's just hope she's getting the help she needs.  None of that is your fault, Luba."

"I know, but I was so jealous that they were going to Worlds and everyone was saying how great she is, and..."

He put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, and she bent her head over to rest on it.  

"I may not be able to do this much longer," he said to lighten the mood.

"Come on, you are big, keep going," she smiled at him.

 Well, alright.  Gauntlet thrown.  "I'm afraid to talk politics with you because I'm scared of what you'll say."  He took a shot without the lemon or sugar.

 "Putin is an idiot, and the anti-gay laws are inhumane and barbaric.  What Russia is doing in Ukraine is shameful." She threw one back.  Her English got better the more she drank, which confirmed his suspicion that her language struggles had everything to do with fear of failure.

He smiled.  "I once made out with Kirsten's best friend when Kirsten was in the next room.  They were eighteen, but just barely."  He took a shot.

"What is made out?"

"Kissing and maybe a little bit more."

"Not sex."

"No, not sex."

"I made out with Nodari several times, and he had a girlfriend." She took her drink.

"That's not nice!" He laughed. 

"You never made out with Kirsten?"

"No!"

"Maybe that's why you break up."

"Maybe.  I think Sarah is going to break up with me." He took a shot--it wasn't very full.  The room was beginning to look blurry.

"Why?" Luba sounded shocked.

"We're in different places.  Literally and figuratively."

"She's mad that you are stuck in Detroit?"

"Yeah, but it's more than that."

"It's my fault!  Stupid envelope!"

"No, it's not that.  She...she thinks of skating as a hobby, I think."

"You went to the Olympics!"

"I know, but I'm almost thirty, and she probably thinks I had the perfect opportunity to move on."

"But you weren't ready to move on."

"Yeah, I think that's hard for some people to understand."

"Were you thinking of marrying Sarah?"

This is where he could get into real trouble.  He was sober enough to understand this, but too drunk to heed the inner warning.  "Probably not."

"Why?"

"I don't think we would be happy.  I think she would always want me to be doing something other than what I wanted.  And I don't think we're compatible in other ways..."  He should really shut up.  She looked at him quizzically.  Of course he went on.  "I don't think she likes sex very much."

"She won't have sex with you?"

"No, she'll have it.  She just doesn't enjoy it, I don't think."

"She doesn't..." Luba was typing furiously on her phone, "doesn't have orgasm?"

"I don't think so."

"Some women don't have them, or don't care if they have one.  I think that's more common than you would think," she told him.

Just then he wanted to know if Luba had them, or more accurately, he wanted to place her on the couch and give her one until she shouted his name in that husky voice. 

"I mean, not me.  I like to have one." She took her shot.  "Is very late," she was picking up the glasses and walking into the kitchen to rinse them.  He crawled over to the couch and shut his eyes.  He thought she turned off the lights and went into the bedroom. 

In the morning he could hardly roll off the couch.  She gave him some water and ibuprofen and made him eat his oatmeal before they went on a Saturday morning long run.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Luba**

**June 2014**

 

Luba's life was being taken over by if/then.  If this visa will arrive, then we can finally get to Canada.  If Russia will release me, then Dylan and I can really start planning.  If I could just land this stupid triple toe...

She wasn't sure how much Dylan was willing to endure.  He was stuck here in Michigan with her; he just wanted to go home, his life was falling apart. She feared he would decide very soon that it was all just too much.  She would be on her return flight to Moscow, and he would be happy back in Toronto.

She tried to keep the money under control so he wouldn't have to worry about that so much.  He wanted her to get new skates and trainers, but she refused to think about it until they got to Toronto.  The skates in particular were getting bad.  They were on the ice for at least six hours a day, and she was relying on tape and prayers to keep them in one piece.  She saw the novices on their perfect white skates and tried not to be eaten up with jealousy.

On her beautiful laptop, she had written what she thought was a wonderful letter to her old federation, thanking them graciously for everything they had invested in her, recounting how she had searched for a partner, expressing hope that they would let her skate with Dylan.  She wrote about how proud she was to have come from the Russian system, and how much her training had benefited her.  She laid it on a bit thick, actually, because Pavlova could still bite her ass, but there was some sincerity.

She knew she wouldn't be able to be having this experience, to even have a chance to skate with Dylan if it hadn't been for her training.  Dylan marveled at some of the things she could do, and she knew that was attributed to the hours she had spent in those Moscow rinks during a time when Russian skating was at its lowest point, and its future seemed dire.  Now they were probably the most powerful federation in the world, and she hoped they would extend a little bit of sympathy and compassion to her and not block the match out of spite.

It had been risky to be so public about her problems in Pavlova's group when she wanted to skate for France.  It labeled her a trouble maker, and she had been extremely lucky that there was a rink willing to employ her when she returned from her unsuccessful French journey.  The sad situation with Nodari's current partner showed that she didn't even do any good trying to prevent young skaters from having similar experiences to her. 

_If there is no hope, if all is going to be bad, if this is certainly going to fail, if I am going to be back in Russia where I started from, then why am I so happy?_

Every training day was fun.  They laughed most of the time.  Dylan wasn't sensitive about anything having to do with his skating and wanted to learn from her.  He teased her constantly and made fun of the way she talked in the most hilarious way.  He had a whole Luba routine, where he would skate like a ballerina and croak out all of the Russian swear words she used when she was jumping.  She would pay him back by railing at him about his lack of grace and weird body positions.  They were committed to "meeting in the middle," and she longed to be able to jump like Kirsten.  She let him lead her through all sorts of workouts to try and build more muscle, countered with ballet stretches she put him through.

She had this little community here with the staff of the DSC, and especially with her girls:  Canadian Alex, American Alex, Anastasia, and American Kaitlin.  You had your country included in your name if you shared your name with someone else.  When Luba was trying to figure this all out, she had asked if she was Russian Luba, and Canadian Alex had laughed, _no, you're Canadian Luba_ , and that had stuck.  She hung out with the girls while Dylan played hockey with Mitch and anyone else around on breaks. 

When Sarah came to visit the week she got back from vacation, American Kaitlin had a sleepover party for the girls, and they stayed up most of the night gossiping and watching videos.  They accosted Luba with questions about Dylan and his girlfriend, but there wasn't much for her to tell.  The drunken confession aside, she had no idea what was going on with them apart from Sarah actually being there.  She didn't bring the subject up with Dylan ever.  Canadian Alex told Luba how much she would love Toronto, and talked about all the places she had to visit.  Luba had a painful little pang of hope.

During a typical training day, a Tuesday in late June, Luba and Dylan were drilling jumps.  It was going unusually well.  There was always music playing at the rink, and a loud swingy song was playing as they landed a triple toe, perfectly in sync.  She jumped huge, and he jumped small, and they matched.  They made a perfect crescent on the correct edge, and had triumphantly graceful arms.  Dylan took her into hold, and led her into something like the yankee polka singing along with the song when he stopped in his tracks.

"Do you hear this?"

"What?"

"The song!"

He skated over to the side where the stereo system was and started the track over.  He skated back and put her in hold again. 

"Listen!"

There were words about birds flying and stars, and the singer kept saying _you know how I feel_ ... nice, but...

"Here! It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, and I'm feeling good!" Dylan sang loudly with the song.  "It's us, Luba!  It's our story.  It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, and I'm feeling good!" He sang again, and they started skating to the rhythm and improvising choreography. By the end of the song, the singer was practically shouting, and Luba joined in.

"It's a new dawn! It's a new day! It's a new life for me! And I'm feeling good!"  They skated out the song and then she jumped up into his arms.  "I LOVE it.  It's our song!"  He swung her around.

"It's a Canadian singer, Michael Bublé."

"That's perfect!  I want to download it."

"Right now?" Dylan laughed.

"Yes!"

She skated over for her guards and scooted as fast as she could for her locker and her phone.  She had two missed calls--odd because who would call her? And a voice mail.  She had a moment of panic that something must be seriously wrong back home, and then breathed a sigh of relief to see an American number.  A Detroit number.  She pushed the button for the message.

"This is for (small pause) Lubov (looooooong pause) Iliush...ECH...kina?  Sorry.  Um, Lubov, this is Karen Humphreys at the Canadian consulate here in Detroit, and I wanted to let you know that your Canadian visa arrived, and you can pick it up during our office hours.  We're open until five today.  Okay!"

"Yaaaaaaaaay!" Luba jumped and spun and ran toward the ice. "Dyyyyyyylan!  It's here!"

"The song?"

"No, the visa!"

"No shit?!"

"It's in Detroit, we can pick it up right now!"

"Let's go!"

She hugged her girls.  She hugged the manager on duty and regretfully informed her that she wouldn't be able to work in the office any more.  They scooped up their stuff, untied their skates and ran out the door. They stopped at Chan's long enough to pack, and Luba insisted on cleaning out the fridge and swiping the bathroom.

"He won't care, I promise."

"I care."

They threw everything in the back of the SUV and headed to downtown Detroit using Dylan's phone to navigate.  He circled around the block while she ran in with her passport.  The people at the consulate were incredibly polite, and she told them this was step one in her journey to be Canadian.  They congratulated her and wished her all the best.  She tore out of the building just as Dylan was rounding the corner.  She thrust the hand in the air with the passport and visa triumphantly and hopped in the car.  They listened to loud, happy music and got to border in about an hour.  The border guard hardly looked at their paperwork at all, and while this was somewhat a relief, it seemed like little fanfare for what had been stressing her out for weeks.  Dylan pulled over and took her picture in front of the Welcome to Canada sign.  She flashed a huge grin and a peace sign, and they scrambled back in the car.  It was a beautiful day, and they had on their sunglasses with the windows all rolled down and the sun roof open.

_Oh freedom is mine_  
 _And I know how I feel_  
 _It's a new dawn_  
 _It's a new day_  
 _It's a new life_

_For me._

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 2**

 

**Dylan**

**July 2014**

 

Before they were far into Canada, they decided to hit the rink before going to Dylan's parents' house.  Luba texted Bryce to let him know, and they heard back quickly that the team would stay late to work.  Dylan and Luba would be in Toronto by late afternoon.

Dylan called Sarah and left a voice message to let her know he would be back in town.  They almost never talked on the phone, but he didn't think asking Luba to text her while he drove was a good idea. 

Luba was excited about everything and took picture after picture as they drove by.  He teased her that in six months she would wonder why she had twenty pictures of highway signs.

"I'm telling the story of driving to Toronto.  Is art."

"Please continue on with art," he laughed.

Bryce was practically waiting in the parking lot for them when they got to the Cricket Club.  Luba grabbed her skates and bounded in behind him while Dylan checked in with the front office to set up payment. 

"Your ice and coaching fees are paid through the end of the year," the receptionist reported calmly.

"How? By whom?"

She clicked a few keys.  "Payment was made by Norman Moscovitch."

Dylan shook his head.  "Thanks.  Let me give you my card if something else comes up and for payments starting in the new year."  His parents hadn't paid for his skating since around the time he stopped with Kyra.  He was incredibly appreciative, and it was a huge relief, but it made him uneasy as well.  The stakes were higher now; if they failed, it wouldn't just be him wasting his money.  All of a sudden the whole enterprise seemed much more serious than when he and Luba were scratching around at the DSC.  He also knew he was going to be in for a conversation with his father very soon.

When he finally made it to the ice, Lee was standing in skates watching Luba spin.  Dylan offered his hand, and Lee took it and smacked him on the back. 

"I'm liking this, Dylan.  The videos didn't lie.  But...she needs new skates.  Today."  The veteran coach had a much more wry style than his former coach, who was loud and emotional. 

"I know.  She won't get them."

"Luba," Lee called over the music and waved her over.  "If you want to continue, you need to order new skates.  Do it before you leave today."

Luba looked at Dylan with eyes that asked him _is he serious?_ , and Dylan looked back _yep_.  Dylan took her to the office to start the process.  They had some models in her size, and she sighed in pleasure when she tried on the new boots.  Her skates would be in here in less than a week, and they quickly got back to Lee to report the process.  He made them twist, jump and then show off some of the lifts they had been working on.

Lee started right in on helping Luba with her jumping technique and tried to calm her nerves about jumping in general.  It seemed to Dylan that years of bad coaching in this regard were going to take quite a while to undo.  Luba and Lee really hit it off immediately, though, and it was a great first step.

They worked until almost ten and planned to resume in the morning.  Luba was radiant but clearly exhausted.  Dylan was becoming incoherent, too.  They were quiet on the drive to the suburbs and the house he'd grown up in.  His mom had been texting him for the past four weeks with questions as she got Luba's room ready and prepared for their arrival.

 **Mom** :  What does she eat?  Is she picky?

 **Dylan** :  No!  She eats like a skater.  Meat, fruit, veg.  She likes oatmeal and fruit a lot.

Luba had been impressed by the rather shabby skater apartments they had stayed in; she was likely to be incredulous at the Moscovitch house.  It was slightly embarrassing.  His parents weren't wealthy, but they did well enough to live quite comfortably.  His mother and Kyra had put together what he was sure was a lovely room for Luba, who, from what he could tell, had slept her whole life in a space that was about the size of his boyhood closet, and had shared it with her sister for most of those years.  He was excited for her to see her new quarters, but hoped it wouldn't make her feel more out of place.  That awkwardness that had defined their meeting was creeping in again.  He tried to shake it off.  He knew her better than that.

"This is your house, Dylan?" She did gasp.

"Yep, home again."  He parked in the driveway, careful not to block his dad, who left for work at the crack of dawn or his mom, who sometimes had to leave in the middle of the night for deliveries.  He pushed the garage door button on his visor, and the house obediently opened.  Luba looked at him like _this cannot be real_.  He shrugged, and they hopped out and grabbed their bags.

His mom was sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop and a glass of wine and rose as they walked in.

"Hey," he called out affectionately and hugged his mom.  "This is Luba."

His mom reached out her had to shake, and then pulled Luba into her for a hug.  His tall, stately mom, clearly exhausted and still in her scrubs, towered over Luba.

"Luba!  I'm so happy to meet you!  I'm Julia." The side of Luba's face pressed into his mother's chest.  Luba smiled and closed her eyes.  She talked about Mama and Papa often, with reverence almost, and here he got a glimpse of how deep those feelings were.  A good mama is universal.

"You're up late," he said as the women ended their embrace, but his mom held on to Luba's hand comfortingly.

"I just got home.  Great birth, sweet little girl.  I was just doing my notes." She had an office in the house where she took prenatal appointments.  Most of the births she attended were at a local birthing center although she did have privileges at the hospital and did a few home births.  She had been a midwife since before he was born, and he had grown up with model pelvises in the kitchen and breast feeding classes in the living room.

"Yay, food!" Dylan spotted some takeout containers and dished up salads and chicken for himself and Luba.

"I was planning to cook, but you know what happened to that.  Dad brought this home."

"Is he in bed?"

"Of course.  You can talk to him tomorrow," his mother gave him a knowing look.

"Yeah, that was a surprise."

"Don't be upset with him."

"Are you kidding me? I was thrilled."

"I'll bet," his mother said.  Luba didn't look like she was even trying to keep up with the conversation.  She had eaten a few bites and was now looking like she was about to fall asleep on her plate.

"You want me to show you to your room?" He asked her gently.

"Yes.  Thank you so much for this.  We talk tomorrow?" Luba touched his mom lightly on the forearm.

"Oh, of course!  Sleep well, dear."

As Dylan expected, Luba was aghast at her room.  Dylan was impressed, too.  Besides new bedding, there were several stacks of clothes he suspected were closer to her size than the hand-me-downs, and she had her own TV on a little table across from the bed.  The room had an adjoining bathroom that was just for her.  She was as wide-eyed as she had been that first night in Detroit.

"We'll leave at eight, so breakfast around seven thirty?"

"Yes, Dylan.  Thank you.  She gave him a quick hug, and he shut the door behind himself.  He was more than a little sheepish to put his bag down in his own childhood room, but the bed was familiar.  His sister came out of her room as he made his way to the bathroom between them to brush his teeth. 

"Dyllo!  I thought I heard you.  Is she here?" Kyra side-hugged him.

"Where else would she be?" He changed his tone slightly, remembering how thrilled Luba had been with her room. "You and mom did a great job, by the way, thanks."

"I'm blown away by your gratitude and enthusiasm," she teased him.

"No, really, Kyra, thanks."

"No problem.  I'm looking forward to meeting her.  Bryce texted me the videos.  She's adorable.  Can she speak English?"

"Surprisingly well.  I've got to go to bed."

"Okay.  Dinner tomorrow.  No weaseling out of it."

"We'll be there."

He fell asleep as soon as he lay down and was terribly offended when the alarm went off at seven.

His dad had already left, but his mom was on duty in the kitchen with a big pot of oatmeal. She also appeared to have bought out a fruit stand.  Dylan smiled and rolled his eyes the tiniest bit.  Luba was already seated with the largest amount of food Dylan had ever seen in front of her, drinking coffee out of a Krav Maga mug that had been in the house since he was a teenager.

"Good morning, Dylan," she said with a huge smile. 

"Morning," he kissed his mom on the cheek and joined Luba at the table.  His mom plunked down his own breakfast and kissed the top of his head.  He had a flashback to inhaling his breakfast before the school bus arrived.

Luba made a spectacular effort at eating all of her food.  "Mrs. Moscovitch, can I make sandwiches for Dylan and...me...I...myself for the skating?"

"Julia!" his mother insisted, "Of course!"  She pulled out a deli's worth of meat and cheese and premium bread Luba would have never let him buy.  The two women put the sandwiches together quickly and loaded up a bag with them and fruit.

"Dinner tonight!  Dad is going to grill.  We want to sit down by six thirty, so don't be late."  His mom hugged them both as they were scooting out the door.

"We'll be there, I promise."

The rest of the week was filled with a lot of drilling from Lee and Bryce.  The third member of their team, Tracy, a former ice dancer, was on vacation but would be back the next week to start learning the programs.  Lee and Bryce thought he had a lot of bad habits to break, and that Luba had bad psychology to break-through.  Most of the time, though, they thought she was a vision of beauty and he was the Hunchback or something.

They had avoided the pair spin until now.  Their side by side spins were their absolute favorite element, even more than the lifts.  Dylan had never been a particularly strong spinner, but she inspired him with her skill.  She could match him rotation for rotation, even if he got off time.  She could slow down or speed up with more accuracy than he had ever witnessed.  Sometimes he tried to through her off, just for fun, but he couldn't. 

The pair spin was a different story, though.  When he was with Kirsten, it had been their worst element.  They powered their way through it with largely ugly positions and hoped for the best.  It was usually their lowest score in the program. Luba, of course, had an artistic technique for the whole thing and could hit seven beautiful positions, one after another.  Dylan was slowly working his way up to Nodari's technique on the twist, but the pair spin was a whole different animal.  They would have to meet in the middle.  She found this confounding.

"What, you can't..." She would say incredulously and then twist her body into a shape he had only seen ice dancers attempt.

"No, I can't.  I don't bend that way."

"Try! Just..." She would try to bend him backwards and then look at him like a stern teacher would a boy on his way to the corner when Dylan couldn't hold the position and spin.

Bryce helped them modify the change of positions so that she could show off her beautiful lines, and he could hang.  Barely. They lost a tremendous amount of speed and were both concerned.

Mostly, though, everyone was happy with the progression of the elements.  They would sit down on Monday with David, their choreographer, and go over the programs he had in store for them.  Dylan knew the challenge was just beginning, because it was one thing to practice elements, and quite another to put them together with choreography, and then run the whole thing in tempo.  The wait for her release from Russia was constantly on his mind, too, but they had all just decided to proceed as if that was a foregone conclusion and that they would be able to skate and compete internationally.

They made it home in time for dinner each night, and his family and Luba seemed to mutually adore each other.  The lecture about being careful never came from his father--he was completely charmed by Luba.  Dylan's other sister was studying in France for the summer.  His brother was away in the military, so it was just Kyra at home, taking summer classes and anxious to go back to university in the fall.  The house had always been filled with kids, and several skaters had stayed there long term to train in Toronto, so it wasn't unusual to have a non-family member in the house, but it was a bit odd for Dylan to be back after living on his own for so long.

They skated half a day on Saturday, and then his mom and Kyra picked Luba up to spend the rest of the day shopping, exploring Toronto, and eating while he spent the weekend with Sarah.

It wasn't back to normal between them, but it wasn't terribly strained, either.  They went out to dinner with friends that were mostly hers, but then met up with some of his buddies in a pub where a very loud band was playing.  Everyone wanted to know all about Luba, and Sarah impressed him by going on and on about how amazing she was.  Sarah had all the Bryce videos, too, and shared them across the table.  Everyone was impressed and seemed excited.  He texted Luba and Kyra to come join them, but they texted back that they were already in pajamas watching a movie.

He woke up feeling very connected to Sarah and happier with the relationship than he had been in a while.  They went on a long run, and she couldn't keep up, of course, but she wasn't bad for an accountant.  It would hardly be fair to compare her to a world class athlete.  While he waited for her to finish, he had plenty of time for strength and flexibility.  They went back to her lovely condo, took a long shower, and then went out for brunch and a matinee before he returned home in time for dinner.  He invited her to come over, but she had work to finish before morning. 

He and Luba were visibly nervous before the meeting with David.  Her programs with Nodari had been very...Russian, and whatever David came up with, it was going to be a significant departure for her.  Dylan had only worked with one choreographer in the past few years, and his successful programs with Kirsten had mostly been of a particular style: whimsical and fun.  They sometimes strayed into more serious territory, but had mixed results with that.  They had a hard time pulling off sweeping epic or serious romance.  He was anxious to see what David was thinking.

The meeting was in a small office in the Cricket Club.  David had an iPad in front of him and was watching those Detroit videos as Dylan and Luba walked in. David was renowned for working with Yuna Kim when she was with Brian Orser, but he was not an imposing figure, and he put them at ease immediately.

"Hey guys, I love these.  I love you," he said directly to Luba and took her in his arms.  This was becoming a pattern.  He realized Luba was something of a gay icon. She laughed and flirted back with him.

"I love _you_!"

He pointed out directly to her everything he loved about her in the videos, and then would nicely add, "And Dylan is soooo strong!"  Yes, indeed.

Lee and Bryce joined them, and they got down to business.  "I'm sold on the James Bond," he told them as if they knew exactly what he was talking about.  When they looked at him blankly, he continued, "You know _From Russia with Love_ , haven't you talked to them about this?" he directed that to Lee and Bryce.

"We were waiting for you," Lee replied.

"Well, it's perfect, and Miss Love over here is perfect," he added.  "I've been making it a short program, but it makes much more sense as a free.  Here," he pushed a button and the music filled the room.  It wasn't over the top James Bond, just little flourishes here and there, and that familiar strain at the end.  "It's romantic, right?  But it's sexy romantic--sexy, campy, romantic, and I think it's perfect.  Dylan, you have been the big brother for years, but you don't look like the big brother with her," He looked at Luba.  "You look like you are getting it on the regular."

Dylan snorted, and Luba was completely confused.  "He thinks we can pull this off," he told her. 

"You are sexy together," David added, and Luba nodded, not the least bit embarrassed.  David showed them some initial choreography in which Luba was in his arms with her knees on his thigh.  David had her arch her back (the room swooned) and then come up and caress his face.  "Exactly like that!"  They listened to the music again for the high points and for some ideas of element placement.

"For the short, I like the Bublé," he told them.  Dylan and Luba looked at each other, and Dylan put his had out for her to smack.  She did, and then they held on and shook them, celebrating the news.  "Oh good, I'm glad you're happy with that."

"It's..." Luba started.

"It's our story," Dylan said.

"I can see that, and that will be in there, but it's sexy, too, right?  It's like when you're in a bad relationship, and you break up, and you meet someone new, and you really like the person, but there are some questions; you're hesitant, right?  Then you have that third date, and the sex is incredible, and all is right with the world, and you're feeling good!" He sang that last part. "Right?"  Bryce was trying not to laugh, and Luba was hanging on his every word.  She glanced over at Dylan and smiled. 

"Right," Dylan sighed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Luba**

**July 2014**

 

Luba awoke twisted into her seat, head smashed against the window, ear throbbing.  

"You were sawing logs!" The older man next to her chortled.

"Pardon?"  She was going to have to reset her English brain.

"You were sleeping soundly.  Snoring."

"Snoring?"

"You know," The man made loud breathing sounds through his nose.

"I sounded like that?"

"Not really.  Are you Russian?"

"Yes--I'm in the process of becoming Canadian."

"Student?"

"No, I have my degree.  Skater."

"You can't do that in Russia?" He laughed at his own keen wit.

"Not with Canadian partner."

"Oh, I see.  Are you going to the Olympics?"

"I hope so, some day."

"Well let me get your autograph, just in case."

"Do you know how long it will be before we land?"

"Should be about forty-five minutes."

Luba signed his book and pulled out her own, hopefully ending the conversation.  She had been in Russia for a week and a half taking her exams and saying goodbye to her family.  She had finished her thesis before she left for Detroit, and had received a good response from the psychology department.  She had withstood an hour long oral exam as well, and received her diploma.  She had underestimated the challenge of flipping from the casual Canadian English she was becoming really good at, and the formal English her professor expected, but he had a good sense of humor about it and praised her for her improved fluency. 

She had almost hesitated to bring her beautiful new skates with red maple leaves on the heels.  She was scared they would be lost or damaged en route, and didn't want to be seen as a show-off, but she needed the training, and she had hoped to skate with her former students. 

When she went to skate at her club, she saw that people who had liked her before all of this happened seemed genuinely thrilled for her.  Many who couldn't be bothered with her before now gathered around wanting to talk to her.  The news of Nodari's partner's illness had broken after she had left, and everyone wanted her opinion about that.  Beyond expressing best wishes, she had nothing to say about that subject.

She asked her mentors what they thought the likelihood of her getting her release was, but they had no idea.  She hoped they weren't being noncommittal because they felt it was probably not going to be approved, and they didn't want to disappoint her. She talked to the director of the club and tried to charm her as much as possible in case she had any pull in the decision. 

Elena Ilinykh invited her to skate with her and Ruslan at their club for an afternoon, and Luba had been impressed with their progress.  Elena wanted to know the gossip from Detroit.

"They all wanted the gossip about _you_!" Luba laughed.

"No word about Nikita and Victoria?" Elena and Ruslan's former partners trained across town in Canton.

"Not really.  Alex Shibutani came over to play hockey with Dylan, Mitch, and Andrew, and I asked him.  He just said they were doing well."

"Alex wouldn't say anything else," Elena smiled.

"No.  Everyone is very, very nice.  I always think there must be rage bubbling under the surface, but no one ever expresses it.  Everyone is best friends."

"You should have been in the locker room with Meryl and Tessa at competitions.  There was definitely some rage behind those smiles," Elena laughed.

"It's not there, though, at DSC.  I kept looking for it, but they're all best friends.  American Kaitlin and Canadian Alex and Madison are literally fighting for the same spots, and they want to overtake Canadian Kaitlyn, but they just seem happy for each other."

"I'm surprised Angelika Krylova puts up with it," Elena chuckled.

"They love her like a mama and treat her like a goddess; I think she would be different if she were coaching here."

"Of course. And your partner?"

Luba felt the smile creep over her face. "Oh, he's great," she said casually.

"Great. I can see that," Elena teased her.

"He's wonderful," she gushed.  "It's a dream, really."

"I can see that you're happy, Luba.  I'm so glad."

It was more of the same at home.  Mama and Papa had loaded her suitcase down with gifts for the Moscovitches, and had also given her what must have been most of their savings.  They called it a graduation present, which really wasn't a custom there.  She planned to save half of it in a new bank account in hopes of independence some time soon, and to give half of it to Dylan to pay for a tiny portion of the training and living expenses. 

She also had her coaching license updated and official from her club.  She and Dylan had talked to Cricket Club management about teaching a class of intermediates together.  Her vision was for Dylan to take the boys and for her to take the girls for half the class to work on singles skills, and then combine for the second half to work on pairs skills.  No one seemed to even start learning them until the boys were old enough to do lifts.  Luba thought this was ridiculous and suspected it was why pairs wasn't a thriving discipline in Canada and the States.  Kids could learn death spirals and pair spins years before they were ready for lifts.  The fundamentals of throws and twists weren't dangerous as long as the coaches were careful.  She hoped they would get the go-ahead for the class.  She thought it would be popular, and she was already choreographing a Nutcracker number for a Christmas show she wasn't even sure the club had. 

She realized she was practically aching to get back and to get on the ice.  They had just learned choreography for the two programs before she had to leave, and she wanted to train them properly.  She had forgotten how taxing it was to work on programs, but if you stuck with it, it got easier.  She had left in the midst of the really hard part.  She already loved both the new girlfriend character of the short and the sexy Russian spy lady in the free.  She'd never played a character all the way through a program, and it was so much fun.  She and Dylan threw themselves into their characters each time.

She couldn't wait to see him, too.  She had surmised that he had spent the whole time she was away with Sarah.  She didn't know that for sure because she was afraid to text him and run up his phone bill while she was in Russia, but she knew he didn't really like living at home. His parents were great, but he was too used to being independent.  It actually felt more comfortable for her to be living in home with parents, so to speak, because it's all she'd ever done.  But he had been out on his own from a very young age and was uncomfortable being back there. 

When she was going to sleep each night, she tried to focus on the skating.  Doing the steps leading up to the jumps, doing the choreographic transitions into the throws, going over the highs and lows of the programs.  (Literally, in the short.  David had choreographed them several times on their knees to celebrate and highlight their lift from Dylan's knees.  She thought it was brilliant.)

In spite of this exercise, her mind would wander to Dylan and Sarah and the growing pang it caused in her stomach.  She didn't scold herself for having these feelings.  She thought he was such a fantastic man that it wouldn't make sense for her not to become attached to him.  She did know that it was more than risky, and that she probably would end up disappointed if not heart-broken.  But it was beyond her control.

She felt giddy as the plane landed and she waited in the interminable line to deplane and walk through customs.  The visa and papers were in order, and she had no hassles getting through.  As she walked down the corridor, she thought of that arrival in Detroit when Dylan was so nervous, and she was just relieved to be there.  Once again she scanned the crowd but with much more happiness and much less tension this time.  She saw him almost immediately.  He was extremely tan, like he had spent much more time outside and less time in the rink.  In his hands was a sign on copy paper that said _Canadian Luba_ with a red maple leaf on each side.  He saw her just then, and he smiled wide.  She ran toward him, and he scooped her up. She put her arms around his neck.

"Hello, Dylan."

"Come on, Luba.  Let's go home."


	9. Chapter 9

**Dylan**

**August 2014**

 

For as much time as they spent together, Dylan was often shocked about how little he knew about Luba.  He hadn't had a friend before whose early life and experiences were so divergent from his--especially someone with such similar interests and values.  They had somehow arrived at almost the same place through journeys that had few common points.  

At a stoplight during a morning commute, Dylan asked her a question.

"Luba, do you know how to drive?"

"No."

"Have you ever tried?"

"I don't have a car."

"On your parents' car?"

"They don't have one.  Papa takes the train every day; he's always taken the train.  Mama works two bus stops from our house."

"Your mama is a teacher?"

"Yes she does children garden."

"Kindergarten?"

"Yes, that's German...?"

"I guess so, it's the word we use for five year olds...their school," Dylan was finding being an adjunct English instructor much harder than he would have guessed.  She was so sharp, and there were a lot of questions he had a hard time with. "So you took the bus to school?"

"Yes, when I was...kindergarten. But when I was seven, I started at sports school in Moscow.  I took the train with Papa...he worked far away from my school, so we got there very early.  When I was older, I could take the train by myself, and we could both leave a little later."

"So trains and buses everywhere?  How far do you have to go to shop, like for food?"

"We have shops in the neighborhood for most things.  They go in the city sometimes on Saturday to buy things you can't get in the...local places."

"How did you start at the sports school?"

"I was skating in the club by our house, and they have people come in and evaluate who they think has talent for this and that.  We got a letter asking if I would start the school in Moscow."

"Did you have to pay for it?"

"No, they pay for everything.  That's what they meant when I was in France, and they were talking about their investment."

He could tell from her tone that it was something she was worried about.

"Hey, you have Team Canada behind you now, how can you lose?  If they try to deny us the release, we'll cry really loudly."

Luba practically spit out her coffee.  "That should work!"

He parked in their designated space and steeled himself for the day of training.

Two days after Luba returned from Russia, they got an opportunity to perform at the club in Scarborough in a summer showcase.  They panicked, decided it was impossible, and then allowed themselves to be talked into it by Tracy Wilson.

"You can't pass up the experience of running a program in front of an audience," she implored them.

"You can if people will be horrified.  We haven't gotten through the short even once--and the free...I mean, come on!" Dylan argued.

"Everyone will know that it's an early run through.  People are intrigued.  Let's give them something."

"What do you think about this?" He asked Luba.  She looked terrified but shrugged.  They spent the next twelve hours taking apart the short and putting it back together while stumbling, tripping, swearing, whining, laughing and sometimes straight out falling.

The next day was slightly better. The day after was a disaster.  This was the fourth day, and they had three more to go before the performance.  Lee wanted them to run it fresh from the beginning.  They warmed up briefly and then hit their positions.  Luba looked at him every time like she was supposed to:  the new girlfriend after a night of fabulous sex.  She would look him dead in the eye, too, with no embarrassment.  He and Kirsten couldn't make eye-contact in just about any context without cracking up.  It was just too awkward.  The first few times he and Luba ran this program, he had gone for the goofy fallback _this is awkward, let's just get through it_ demeanor, and Luba had looked back at him, deadly seriously, like _stop your nonsense, you fuckwit._   It gave him permission to play the character, too, one hundred percent committed.  It was surprisingly freeing.

It made him wonder how much of the disconnect between him and Kirsten he was responsible for.  Of course he and Kyra hadn't had any romantic chemistry because, ew. Then Kirsten had pretty much just filled in for Kyra before they were official partners.  By the time they were committed, perhaps he should have reevaluated and really started fresh, but Kirsten was so much younger, and there was an ick factor about someone his age pretending to be in love with a teenager anyway.  But she wasn't a teenager anymore, and they had never been able to switch it up.

They hadn't been asked very often if they were a couple off the ice.  They were no Tessa and Scott, for sure, but during the Olympic season, when the volume of interviews increased so much, they did sit down with people who didn't know them, and they finally got that question that means you have made it:  are you in love?

Kirsten was quick to vociferously deny it, and he followed her lead.  It was a compliment, though, and he bristled a bit when she went so overboard acting like it was ludicrous. But the next time they were supposed to gaze lovingly into each other's eyes in their "chivalry isn't dead" free program, he would cross his and try to make her laugh. 

Luba was clearly not playing this game, so each time they embraced and caressed and gazed.  And if she could muster up that much joy pretending she'd just had sex with him, it wasn't something to begrudge.

The Saturday morning of the show, they met at the Cricket to go through the elements one more time.  Luba had an old costume she'd brought back with her, and he was in basic black pants and shirt.  They were going for something spiffier if they were granted the release and received some funding, but the temporary outfits would do for now.  They loaded up the SUV with their gear and Lee and Bryce and took off for the suburbs.

It was mostly an ice dance show, and he told the people in charge how rough their program would be.  Everyone was encouraging.  His friend Asher was performing for the last time with his partner--they had split on the best of terms--and Dylan was happy to be there for that. 

When it was their turn, Dylan and Luba had some major problems.  It was a mess. The jumps were as bad as they had ever been.  The spins were off.  Luba stumbled out of the throw.  But the crowd gasped during the lift, which came off perfectly, and they made it through in one piece.  At the reception afterward, though, no one wanted to commiserate. No one told them to keep working on it. They all wanted to talk about how he and Luba could be so connected, have so much chemistry after just having skated together for two months.  Luba smiled and looped her arm in his.

"Dylan makes it so easy."


	10. Chapter 10

**Luba**

**August 2014**

 

Luba finally met the famous little brother as they were hurrying out of the house on the way to the beach one early Sunday morning.  Sasha had arrived, on a short leave, late the previous night after Luba had gone to bed.  Sasha was the most talked about member of the family, and Luba had been very intrigued.  Quiet in the back seat next to Kyra, the tall, half asleep young man was not yet living up to her expectations. Kyra looked asleep as well but had her headphones in.  Luba decided to poke Sasha a bit.

"Why are you Sasha and not Alex like everyone else on this continent?" She asked him.

"He was Alex until he was old enough to read hockey bios," Dylan offered from the driver's seat.

"Sasha Moscovitch sounded so much more bad ass," Sasha's voice was almost exactly like his brother's. It had a slightly younger tone, but otherwise, just the same.  "Then I went to school and found out it was a grandma's name, but I had already decided. 

"It helped that you were about six feet in grade one," Dylan added.

"Yes, why are you not pair skater?" Luba asked Sasha.

"Hey! Height isn't everything!" Dylan sounded mock offended, and Luba looked over at him with an apologetic smile.

"I was more of a hockey guy, but truthfully, I'm not very good on skates.  Dylan and Kyra got all the talent," Sasha swatted his sister next to him.

"Stop!" She smacked him back.

Dylan merged on to another highway.

"Dude, aren't we going in to pick up Sarah?" Sasha asked Dylan.

"No," Dylan answered tersely. Luba caught herself before she snapped her head toward him.

"What the hell? What did you do?" Sasha scooted up in the middle seat and leaned over so that he was practically in the front next to them.

"Nothing," Dylan said.

"Why is she not going?  I was looking forward to seeing her."

"She had something else to do."

"Yeah, right.  I'll find out.  Man, what is it with you and women this year?"

"Shut the fuck up, Sasha," Kyra was definitely awake.

"What? Is Towers a sore subject? I thought we all agreed he traded up," Sasha flipped Luba's ponytail with his finger.

"Oh my god, shut up," Kyra put her headphones back in.  Dylan said nothing.

"Seriously, is everything okay with you and Sarah? I didn't hear about this."

"Everything's fine; there's nothing to hear," Dylan's mouth made a straight line, and Luba couldn't see his eyes from the side and behind his sunglasses.

"She just had better things to do than go to the beach with you on a Sunday?"

"Maybe she just didn't want to see you," Dylan's hand came out of nowhere and smacked Sasha in the head.

"Sarah loves me!"

"Apparently not," Dylan turned the music up and drove in silence while Sasha asked Luba question after question about her family, Moscow, school...

"Did you leave behind a boyfriend?"

"No, single."

"Me, too!  When was your last relationship?"

"It ended in February."

"Did you break his heart?"

Luba looked to Dylan for help with this phrase.

"Leave her alone," he said to his brother.  "Was he very sad when you broke up?" He offered to Luba.

"I don't think so, he had another girlfriend."

"He cheated on you?" Dylan asked her, and she was confused by the verb.

"Cheated?"

"He was going out with this other girl behind your back...like, lying to you?"

"Not really lying...but not really telling the truth, either.  I thought I was the only girl.  When she found out about me, she made him choose, and he did."

"Sounds like an asshole," Sasha said.  Luba understood that one.

"You could say that, he was an asshole," Luba laughed.

"How long did you go out with him?" Dylan asked her.

"Since the beginning of school in September.  He had a student apartment in Moscow that made it easier for me to stay during the week, but I guess the other girl was there on the weekend."

"Oh, man, that's brutal," Sasha was laughing.

"Wasn't great," Luba said levelly, which made Dylan laugh. "He has his girlfriend and his student apartment, but I live in Toronto."  Dylan put his hand up for her to slap, and she did.  Then she thought for the hundredth time that week what would happen if she didn't get the release. She tried to push it aside for the day.

The parking area was packed when they finally arrived at the shore. Dylan had warned her that it wasn't a real beach, but it was lovely and the weather was perfect, and Luba hadn't been on an excursion like this in at least a year.  It was close to perfect.  Kyra had taken her shopping the day before and she had a new bikini, flip-flops, and pretty, striped beach towel.

They set up the umbrella and then abandoned it to play.  The water was cold but not unbearable.  The boys tossed her in repeatedly, and then she and Dylan posed for some lift shots.  In a few hours they were starving.

"Luba, didn't you pack sandwiches?" Dylan teased her, and then they had lunch in an outside cafe with a beautiful view.  Luba took a hundred pictures, including the menu, and they laughed at her and made her feel like an honorary Moscovitch.  They bought ice cream bars and settled down under the umbrella.  The boys talked about hockey, and Kyra and Luba pulled our their books.  After a while Kyra looked over at Luba's Russian script.

"What is that?"

Luba flipped the book over automatically to glance at the cover--she supposed it was a school habit, " _Tropic of Cancer_."

" _Really_?!"

"Yes?"

"What?" Dylan asked.

"It's a dirty book!  It was banned when it was published," Kyra laughed, "Of course that was long, long ago, so I don't know how bad it really is."

"Bad?" Luba asked.

"Smutty, you know, like sexy."

"Oh, yeah," it was a classic book, though, and Luba was confused by Kyra's reaction.

"Read the dirty parts in Russian!" Sasha said loudly.

"Forgive them, they're children," Dylan told her.  "Just read your book."

"No, do it!" Kyra said.  "Read the dirty parts in Russian!"

"The sexy...?"

"Yes!"

Luba flipped through the book.  "Just...okay..."  She cleared her throat and read in a dramatic voice, "O Tanya, gde seychas yavlyayetsya to, chto teplo vlagalishche tvoy, te, zhire, tyazhelykh podvyazki te, yagkikh, vypuchennymi beder? Sushchestvuyet kost' v moy chlen shest' dyuymov dlinoy. YA polosnyy kazhduyu morshchinku v pizdu, Tanya, bol'shoy s semenami. YA poshlyu tebya domoy k Sil'vestr s bol'yu i matka vyvernuta naiznanku. Vashe Sil'vestr! Da, on znayet, kak razesti ogon', no ya znayu, kak razzhech' v pizdu. YA snimayu goryachiye bolty v vas, Tanya, ya delayu vashi yaichniki nakalivabiya. Vashe Sil'vestr nemnogo revnuyet seychas? On chuvstvuyet, cgto-to, ne tak li?  On chuvstvuyet sebya ostatki moyey bol'shoy chlen."  She finished with a trilly Russian flourish.

The group applauded.  "So what does that mean?" Sasha asked.

"He's telling this woman, this..." she consulted her phone, "lover, that after she has sex with him, which he describes in detail, when she goes home to her husband, the sex with him won't be as good. That his," she again consulted the phone and showed it to Kyra, "Is this an okay word to say?" She had learned that some words weren't spoken out loud, so she was careful.

"Yeah, that's fine," Kyra laughed.

"That his cock--the husband's--will seem small."

Sasha laughed.  "So it's a universal theme?"

"Pretty much, yes."

They played for a few more hours until it was getting dusky and they were exhausted.  Sasha drove, and Kyra rode up front, with Dylan and Luba in the back.  Luba was typing an email about her day to her friend Anna, when she looked over and saw Dylan was asleep, head against the door. She curled her legs to the side of her and rested her feet just under his thigh.  She watched him breathe in and out, seemingly in peaceful sleep.  There was curl of hair that had dried and was resting on his forehead, away from the rest of its wet counterpart.  She had an impulse to brush it back and to feel it on her fingers.  She resisted. She returned to her correspondence.

"So yes, Anna, it was my favorite day."


	11. Chapter 11

**Dylan**

**September 2014**

 

Dylan's relationship with Sarah came to a sputtering halt early in the month at lunch on the patio of a restaurant he could no longer afford.  He was fifteen minutes late.  He had been training since eight in the morning, and they were at a critical spot and couldn't just quit.  He had raced to take a shower and dress.  In spite of wearing practice clothes most of the time, Dylan took pride in having a decent fashion sense.  He had pressed his tailored, skinny khakis last night, and his white button down was immaculately hung up on the costume rack next to his better navy blazer. His oxblood loafers had nary a scuff.  Still his tardiness was inexcusable.

She had already ordered and had a bottle of chardonnay opened, not one of his favorite choices.  There was very little suspense about this affair:  he shot her his best humble, apologetic look, she responded with one that said _it makes so little difference_ , he leaned in for a kiss, she deflected.

He suspected she had met someone, but she didn't say it, and he appreciated that. They had met up a few times, but scheduling conflicts had been rife all summer. They hadn't had sex since Luba had been back from Russia.  And since his unpartnering and move from Waterloo, the sex had been little more than a series of pity-fucks anyway.  She looked gorgeous across the table from him, sipping her wine, saying all the right things, sun picking out every beautiful color in her long, curly hair.  He would miss her.  He would kick himself for fucking this up.  He would wish they had been better together.  He would move on.

Half-way through her monologue (very kind and self-effacing--she _so_ had a new guy on the line), his mind began to drift back to training.  He and Luba were working tirelessly on hand-to-hand lifts.  There were two in the free.  He hadn't done one in years because Kirsten hated them.  She didn't think she could hit the position beautifully.  There was an American pair girl who unabashedly hit hideous positions in the hand-to-hand that had scared Kirsten from even attempting one.  Insecurity of body position was not something that burdened Luba.

Learning hand-to-hand was just plain awkward with hands on crotches and fists settling in just above pubic bones.  Luba was the least self-conscious person he'd ever met in this regard and found any attempt to deflect with humor witheringly immature.  _Do your job, Dylan_.  It was becoming a familiar look.  Yesterday, though, they had successfully hit the position, and she was stretching her body out, when they lost their grip and his fist went into the soft part of her lower belly.  She cried out involuntarily, and he placed her on the ice gently, and put his arm around her as she skated off the pain.

"Sorry," she said.

"No, my fault."

"No, sorry for a scream.  I have pain...cramps...period."

"Oh, sorry, Luba! You have to tell me these things. I'll be really careful."  There was not privacy between pair partners.  He'd practically had Kirsten's cycle recorded on his phone, although there was little need as she announced it days in advance.  This is the first time it had come up with Luba, but not the first time he had wondered.  Because of the eating disorder in her past and because she was so small, he didn't want to bring up the subject in case it was an issue. 

She looked at him as if he were crazy.  "Don't worry about it, it is my problem."

"We can wait to train this until you're feeling better."

"I'm fine; let's go.  I will hold on better."

He realized that he was thinking about Luba's period instead of listening to Sarah and snapped to attention. She was expressing her best wishes to his family.  He wished hers the same.  He wasn't hungry and just picked on his food.  As soon the bill arrived--he insisted on paying--he kissed her cheek and put a hand on the small of her back to guide her out the door.  They avoided awkward end conversation, got in separate vehicles and went their separate ways.  He didn't bring this up with anyone unless they directly asked about her.  He felt like a failure again, but it was better broken than suspended in limbo.  He drove back to the Cricket, changed back into work clothes, and put his head down.

Whether they had news of the release or not, they were performing at Octoberfest the next month.  They were debuting the long, which was far from ready. Everyday it was a new issue.  They still weren't going for a triple twist although with the height they could achieve, he didn't this it was ultimately going to be an issue.  Jumping was always stressful for her.  Always.  She had a mini-panic every single time, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

"If you fall, it's no big deal.  I fall all the time."

"It's not fall, it's takeoff."

"Takeoff?  Really?"

"Yes, really."

Lee had intervened and had worked with her separately on jumps for a few weeks, and she was getting better.  It was time for them to start training them side-by-side again, and it was going...okay.

They trained along side some of the best jumpers in the world.  Brian Orser coached Olympic and world champion Yuzuru Hanyū, as well as Javier Fernandez and junior star Nam Nguyen.  It was inspiring, daunting, and very different from training in the small pond of Waterloo.  Lee had Luba watch them and see how they didn't hesitate in the takeoff, even if the jump came right down, even if it went awry and they fell. She was making slow progress, but progress none the less.  Luba and Nam were becoming good friends, and she loved to skate along side him when they were all on the ice.  Dylan joked that he was standing-in so that Iliushechkina and Nguyen could bring home the gold for Canada in 2022.

It was hard to reconcile that the girl whom he could throw half way across the ice and have her land like a cat, the girl who could twist in his one hand six feet off the ice into a crab with no fear, was terrified to jump by herself.  If she started her neurotic behavior, he was beginning to insist they go out for a run, or hit the weight room if it was raining, which she would always do.  

She didn't go into detail, but she had said enough for him to know that she had been traumatized by her training situation with Pavlova.  He also knew that waiting for a release from the Russian federation was always right there in the front of her mind.  So they would run, and she would find something less scary to rant about.  Lately, she was incensed that her _Dylan and Luba Joint Intermediate Class for Singles and Pairs_ had been politely but firmly declined by the Cricket Club. He could have told her that they were never going to go for it.  There was a long tradition of training students in a specific way here, and a twenty-two year old Russian was not going to come in and change it.  Particularly since said Russian had been arguably ill-served by a version of the system she was proposing.  (He kept that last bit to himself.)  They did let her be an assistant in an intermediate class, and she threw herself into the work, of course. 

Jumping aside, training was interesting everyday and fun most.  He loved her sense of adventure, her sense of humor, and her complete devotion to the experience.  He enjoyed having more of a collegial relationship to his coaches.  It was a pleasure to come to work every day. 

The side-by-side spins were their favorite element by far.  He would play with her by changing up his tempo and seeing if she could match.  She was nearly perfect every time.  They tended to run them at the end of the day to leave on a high note.  Lee was supportive but didn't go overboard.  He called them into the office on their way out to show them a video.  It was today's spin.  He paused at random places.  They weren't quite _that_ perfect.  

"Well, look at that."  There was not a chance for complacency.

And he was very ready to move away from home.  Bryce had offered to let him move in to his downtown condo, but Dylan was waiting for funding, so he could help with the expenses.  Until then he was stuck in the 'burbs with the family Moscovitch.  It was driving him a bit nuts.  He loved them all dearly, but he missed not having three (and with Luba four) different opinions about everything he did.  He semi-seriously considered getting a part time job to pay for the move.

One Saturday, that long awaited chat with Dad finally arrived, and it steeled Dylan's resolve to move the fuck away as soon as he had the means.  His mother, Kyra, and Luba had decided to go shopping and to dinner and leave the boys at home.  Sarah had dumped him, so no out there.  He arranged to meet up with the boys later, but had hours of time for Norman to pounce.  It was inevitable.

"Have you thought this through completely?  We love her, Dylan, and we want nothing but success for you two, but what happens if she doesn't get the release?"

"We wait, Dad.  They'll release her eventually.  We can still skate at Nationals."

"How many years do you wait?"

"We really don't think it's going to be years.  And it's not all about the results at this point."  He didn't know if his dad would be receptive to his thoughts, but he would give it a go.  "It's a completely different partnership with different coaches now, you know?  Before, I showed up and did what I was told for the most part.  Kirsten and I had some say, but not a lot.  This is all brand new.  Luba and I are figuring out a lot of this on our own.  Of course we have coaches and a choreographer, but they are more like advisers.  This hasn't really been done before, or if it has, I haven't heard about it.  I'm not copying the Russian style, and she's not just pasting herself in where Kirsten was.  This is all new.  So even if we don't get to compete much this year, it's fascinating and worthwhile."

"It's too bad that Aliona got a new partner so quickly," his dad said, sipping his vodka and tonic.

Dylan inwardly smacked his head against the wall.  "I don't think Germany would have released her, and Canada wouldn't release me.  Plus, would I want to skate for Germany?  Grandpa would be horrified."

"That's true. But one of the issues with you and Kirsten was her age, and now you're with someone young again."

Breathe in.  Breathe out.  "There aren't many pair girls in their late twenties looking for a partner.  Like you said, Aliona got snapped up before I needed her."

"It's just too bad Kyra can't skate." And like always this is where they were.

"She's about an inch and a half shorter than me, Dad."

"You could do it, Dylan."

Absolutely.

"I just...Dad, thank you so much for funding us this year.  I appreciate it..."

His father cut him off, "Of course.  And if you need anything..."

"I know.  Seriously Dad, thank you."

And as if on cue, the women bounded in the door.

"We got you dinner," Luba was breathless.

"Chicken breast and steamed for you, Norman," his mother said.  "And steak, veggie pasta and a big salad for you, Dylan.  You're looking thin."

Luba caught his eye and grinned.  He rolled his eyes as subtly as possible in response.  His mother didn't notice.

"Kyra and Luba both got new dresses, show them to Dylan!"

He wondered how much he could make at Starbucks.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Luba**

**September 2014**

 

Kyra was packing up her stuff to move back on campus.  Luba was folding laundry on the floor of Kyra's room separating stuff into piles:  summer things to be stored and essentials to be packed.  They had music on as always, but the mood was sadder in the room than it had been since Luba arrived.

"It's only forty miles.  I'll be back all the time, and you can come up on the weekends.  There's a direct train. It will be so much fun."

Luba didn't say anything but mimed a tear running down her face with her finger.

"Aw, Lubie, we'll Snapchat every night."

"I won't know what good music to listen to," Luba said.

"I'll send you stuff every day.  Plus you are so busy, you'll hardly notice I'm gone."

Luba was looking at course requirements for twentieth century literature on Kyra's iPad.  "I've read most of these, I haven't read John Updike."

"Good, you can help me.  You would like Updike, I have a couple here," Kyra searched through her shelves.  Here are some more you might like," she gave Luba a big stack of books.

"I need the practice. Reading in Russian is more relaxing."

"Do you sometimes read a book in both languages at the same time?  That's how I survived advanced French."

"Yes, all the time last semester.  And I read that way in France with French and Russian although my French at this point is terrible."

"Mine, too.  One more semester and I'm done with it."

"It's good to know here, though?"

"Yeah, sure, that's what they tell us.  Everyone pretty much speaks English now."

"I'm trying to get Javier to help me with Spanish."

"He could help me with anything."

"He's a bit little."

"Luba!" Kyra looked at her, pretending to be shocked.

"That's not what I mean!  I mean, I have no idea about that," Luba laughed.

"Honey, if he's too little for you, there's no hope for the rest of us."

"He's not little--I just like really big guys usually."  Luba had finished her folding and placed the stack of essentials on Kyra's bed and then settled back down on the fluffy rug she'd spent hours lounging on this summer.

"You can move in here, if you want.  You'll have to share a bathroom with Dylan, which is beyond gross, but you're welcome to it."

"No, thanks, I love my room and my bed.  And my own bathroom."

"Yeah, no kidding.  Please get funding so my brother can move out.  You stay."

"Dylan has tickets to a movie premiere on Friday."

"That's cool.  He gets invited to stuff like that.  Are you going with him?"

"He asked me to."

"What movie?" Kyra was trying to find a bin with space for her summer clothes.

"I'm not sure.  Something about music."

"He's probably going to drag you to a lot of stuff now that Sarah is kaput."

"Drag?"

"You don't have to go if you don't want to.  What happened with Sarah, anyway, do you know? That was a weird development."

"Why?"

"I don't know.  Dylan always has some girl or another, but he never talked about them or really brought them around, and then Sarah was like an instant member of the family, which probably had more to do with her than Dylan, but still.  We all thought this was it.  Than then she stops coming around, and now they broke up--so, what do you know about it?"

"I don't know much," Luba was very confident Kyra did not want to know what little Luba knew about Dylan's sex life.  "I think she was not happy when we were stuck in Detroit.  Maybe she wants Dylan to...retire."

"Maybe, but she was really excited about his career.  She was kind of bossy.  I think there was a major showdown coming between her and Mom."

"What?  Your mom loves...loved Sarah."

"Yeah...maybe." Kyra laughed.  "Don't listen to me.  You're so nice about everyone. I'm a bitch."

"You are not!"

"Yeah, little bit.  So you are going to this movie thing.  You need a new outfit."

"My dress..."

"You can't wear that again.  I'll get mom to take us shopping tomorrow."

"I can't..."

"Mom will pay."

"You and your parents do too much..."

"They wouldn't do it if they didn't want to.  Plus there will probably be photographers at the event.  It's kind of a business thing for the Dylan and Luba brand."

"That's what I thought." Still is was disappointing to hear it out loud.

"What, Luba?" Kyra stopped packing and looked at her.  "Did you want...do you want it to be like a date?"

Luba just looked at her, no idea what to say.

Kyra covered her face with her hands, sat cross-legged on the floor and let out a long moan. "Nooooooooo!"

"What?  He hates me?"

"No, of course he doesn't hate you, goose, but..." she didn't say any words but made another sad, frustrated noise.

"He could never like me in that way," Luba said.

"I'm not saying that.  It's just...he's weird about that stuff.  Like I said, he never, _ever_ talked about girls with us until Sarah, and I got the impression that he likes very neat, separate boxes, you know?  I just don't want you to be hurt because of my stupid brother."

"Kyra, he's so..., he's so not stupid," Luba was trying to save herself and this situation.  "Please, don't say..."

"Oh, Lubie, I won't.  I won't say a word.  I don't mean he's stupid like that.  Ugh.  Here's the thing.  He's the best partner in the world.  Really, he is.  He is so kind and patient and...like, you're the only person on earth when you're working."

"But that doesn't mean love."

"No," Kyra said sadly.

"He is the best partner.  Kirsten was crazy.  I don't understand her."

"I think she wanted to be the star of the team, and she never would be with Dylan. That's my theory this week, anyway."

"They were both stars on that team.  Why would you not want that?"

"No idea.  Anyway, don't let anything I said make you sad. You two are amazing together.  I can't wait to see you in costumes and performing."

"I know, I can't wait, too.  And sad is okay.  I need a little real...realism?"

"Luba, I don't know what the reality is.  Just be careful and don't get hurt, right?"

Sure, Luba thought.  I'll just not get hurt.  So easy.  She hugged Kyra and went to bed with a sad heart.

 

She and Dylan came home slightly early on Friday to get ready to go back to the city.  She rolled her hair and wished for the tenth time that week Kyra was home.  Tonight she would appreciate some makeup help.  Kyra was very good with dramatic style. Luba put on her new red dress and put some sparkly pins in her hair.  She had black high heels that went with everything.  She did a final spray of her hair and plopped her phone and lipstick into her dressy purse. She went into the living room to meet Dylan.

He was immaculately dressed as always in a starched, striped button down, pants she'd never seen before and his best jacket.  His shoes were perfectly shined.

"You look gaaawgeous," He said in one of his silly voices.  He pulled her in for a selfie because his parents weren't home yet.  He placed his hand on her back and led her out the door and then walked casually to the car the way he did every day.  No opening of doors or the like.  So, not a date.  Well, fine.  She could still pretend.

They chatted like every other commute into the city.  The theatre was downtown in a very interesting neighborhood, and Luba got her phone out to take pictures.  A man met them at the door to park the car, and Dylan put his arm around her as they walked in.  It wasn't a real red carpet, but there were a few photographers.  Luba smiled.  No one asked her name or called out Dylan's.

"So glamorous, right?" Dylan said wryly.  There was a semi-large crowd inside and waiters walking around taking drink orders.  Dylan ordered them two club sodas with lime.  A few people came over to him or waved across the room.  He introduced her around.  A photographer asked for a close-up of them.  Dylan pulled her in close, and she smiled. Then the photographer wanted her name.

"This is my new partner, Lubov Iliushechkina. And the spelling..." he laughed.

"It is spelled many different ways," Luba added.

"Try I-L-I-U-S-H-E-C-H-K-I-N-A," Dylan told the photographer, who repeated it back.

"Very good," Luba said, impressed.

The real celebrities arrived--no one that Luba recognized, although that wasn't saying much, and the crowd was guided into the theatre to take their seats.  Dylan and Luba chose some in the back.  Luba hadn't seen a movie in a theatre since at least March, and that had been _Frozen_ with lots of loud children and lots of people eating snacks. She wanted to pull out her phone and take some pictures, but she wanted to look dignified more.

The movie was about a young man who was a very talented jazz drummer.  He went to a fancy music school and met his father once a week at the movies.  He lived in a little corner in the school--Luba didn't really understand that part--and he practiced the drums all the time.  There was a little bit of romance but not nearly enough. The young man liked the girl who sold snacks at the movies, and they went out on a few dates.

The movie was really about a teacher at the school who conducted the best band.  He heard the kid practice, and invited him to sit in with the teacher's band.  It turns out that the teacher was very, very harsh.  He yelled and threw things and berated the students.  He was awful to everyone, but he focused in on the drummer, playing up the competition between him and the other drummers, and making the whole band suffer for hours.  He made the young man play a few lines of music again and again and again while everyone watched.  The teacher called the young man horrible names and said awful things about his father.

 

The summer between Luba and Nodari's last season as juniors and first season as seniors, Luba grew two inches and gained ten pounds.  It didn't happen overnight, but she supposed that after their three week summer break, perhaps she looked different.  Pavlova looked at Luba laughed with a snort as she emerged from the locker room that first day back.

"Did you do anything other than eat during vacation?"

Luba was embarrassed and very afraid that Nodari wouldn't be able to lift her, but it was all fine.  They started working on programs, and things were going really well, but Pavlova wouldn't let it go.  She made Luba write down everything she ate in a day, and Pavlova would return the paper with foods she disapproved of crossed out.  Luba wanted to be a great athlete, so she took the advice of the coach and stopped eating so much.  The weight fell off of her, and she looked striking now--taller and very thin.  Pavlova was pleased.

But the more weight she lost, the more trouble she had with jumps.  She couldn't get her body to do what it had always done.  Pavlova blamed her new height and made her watch Nodari jump.  He was much taller, and his jumps were beautiful and secure.  There was no reason hers wouldn't be as well.

Pavlova got more and more frustrated as the days went by, and the jumps got no better.  The week before their first competition, she made Luba jump over and over and over, way past the time they were expected home.  Luba knew Mama and Papa would be frantic and begged to call them, but Pavlova told her she could call when she landed a jump.  Bless Nodari, she saw him take out his phone and send a message.

Pavlova could tell if the jump was bad the instant Luba left the ice.  Luba would take off, and Pavlova would yell, "NO! Terrible.  Again!"

Luba's rotation would die in mid-aid and she would come down as gently as she could.  But her knees were on fire, and she was completely out of the mindset.  Still, Pavlova made her jump and jump and jump.  It was almost nine, and Luba could no longer see through her tears.

"Apologize to Nodari for wasting his time!"

"Natalia Pavlova, she's had enough," Nodari pleaded.  Luba looked up at him thankfully, but he looked away.

Luba breathed in and out, blocked everything away, ignored Pavlova when she shouted at take off and landed the damn jump.

It was probably the worst night, but it was far from the only incident of the kind of treatment Luba was now seeing on the screen.  She and Nodari went from friendly co-workers who had fun together at competitions, to drones who kept their heads forward and largely ignored each other.  He started making disgusted noises when she had errors. 

 

Luba felt tears falling down her face and realized her hands were shaking.  She touched Dylan's arm and whispered, "I'm going to find a bathroom," and then scuttled out of the room in the dark.  She stopped as soon as she was in the lit hall and bent at the waist to breathe.  She saw the sign for the ladies' room just as she heard Dylan behind her.

 "Sorry, I'll be just a minute," she told him.  "You go back in,"

"Are you okay?  You're not okay." He took her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.  "Let's get out of the way of the door."  He led her quickly into the lobby where they found a place to sit in a corner on a plush sectional.  Luba was still trying to breathe.  A waiter appeared instantly and asked if they wanted a drink.

"You want some water?"

"No."

"We're fine, thank you," Dylan dismissed him politely.

Luba was still attached to his arm and was quietly sobbing into his sleeve.  He wrapped the arm around her and caressed her hair with his hand.  "Shhhh, it's okay," quite like one would comfort an upset child, which she was not. She sat up and wiped her eyes, trying not to destroy her makeup.

"I'm okay."

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"You don't want to watch the rest of the movie?"

"Eh, it's a little weird.  And I'm starving."

"I'm hungry, too," she sighed.

"Let's go eat."  Dylan led her outside and gave his ticket to the man who parked the cars and in moments, the big, black SUV was rounding the corner. Dylan opened the door for her and made sure she was in securely.

"You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine.  Very silly." He closed the door, gave the man some money, and got in on his side.

"Burgers okay?"

"Great."

"Good, there's a place over here, it will crowded on a Friday night."

"That's good."

"Yeah, good." He drove a few blocks and parked.  He draped his arm around her shoulder and opened the door to the restaurant.  It was loud and packed, but there was a tiny table for two in the back. 

"It's Friday, you wanna beer?" Dylan waggled his eyebrows at her.

"No, but I would love a Coke."

Dylan made a face.  "That's poison."

"One Coke in how many months is not poison." Luba remembered the last Coke she'd had was at the movies in March. "You have your beer treat, and I will have my Coke."

"Fair enough.  You want to split a burger?"

"Two orders of fries?"

"Perfect."

The waiter took their order and brought back the drinks. Luba took a straw out of its paper wrapper and took a long drink through it and then moaned in pleasure while Dylan made a face.

"So, did someone throw a cymbal at your head at some point?" He asked her.

Luba laughed at his bluntness.  "No, but the rest of it wasn't much of a..." she pulled out her phone with its invaluable ap and stared at the word that popped up.  Dylan grabbed it.

"Exaggeration."

"Wasn't much of a...an exaggeration, no.  You don't want to know the long details..."

"I want to know whatever you want to tell me."

She looked at him.  "Details are close." She jerked her head to indicate back at the movie. 

"That's a nightmare, Luba."

"And here I am and things are so good now, but it changed me not for good."

He looked at her encouraging her to go on.

"I was a happy, bright person.  Sunny person.  I always thought the good would happen."

"Optimist."

"Yes, optimist.  I saw good in everyone."

"You are still like that."

"I don't think so."

"You are.  You are, Luba.  You keep us going most days.  You keep me going."

"It's easy when everyone wants you to do well.  When people all care about you.  My family always cared about me.  I have some friends that care about me, but..." She felt like she was getting lost.  "When I wanted to skate for France, instead of just saying no, they _published_ what a mess I am, about anorexia, which was exaggeration, and that I wanted to kill myself, which was HUGE exaggeration.  They made me look like..." she found one of Dylan's favorite words, "a disaster."

The waiter brought their food at the most awkward of all moments.  She looked across the table at Dylan expecting to see horror and mortification a la Nodari.  Instead he had an awkward grin on his face that made her laugh.  "And they'll probably never release me, not because they want me back, but to torture me because it's what they like!" She laughed some more, and he laughed with her.

"Well, my partner dumped me for Michael fucking Marinaro, so I had bad shit, too."

She threw a napkin at him.  "What is so bad about Michael fucking Marinaro?"

"He looks like a fetus, for one."

Luba looked it up the word fetus on her phone and then laughed.  "It's something with..." She indicated her brow line.

"Thank you! Exactly!  He can't lift for shit, that's another." Dylan took the last bite of his burger, which he had consumed in about twenty seconds.

"Kyra says Kirsten wanted to be the only star on the team."

"I'm sure Kyra the Brilliant has it all figured out," Dylan rolled his eyes with a smile.

Luba ate the huge burger, too much for her even at half.  She plunked it down on his plate, and he looked at her like she was a saint. She dipped her fries luxuriously into ketchup while Dylan did a fantastic impression of Lee evaluating their elements.

"Luba can't save you on this one, Moscovitch.  Ya gotta be able to spin."  He pulled out his phone.  "Ya think you're perfect, but look at this.  Look at this, Luba."  He played a video of them doing their side-by-side spins and hit pause dramatically.  "Look at Dylan:  is he rushing, or is he dragging?"

She got up from the table in a split second, so that she was next to him and pounded his arm with both fists.  "You...!"

"Asshole!" He helped her out, and she started play punching his face.

"Ow!" He parried her blows and then grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap and planted a big kiss on her cheek.  "Let's get out of here, Lubinsky.  _Grey's Anatomy_ isn't going to watch itself."  He gripped her hips gently and popped her up, reached into his coat for his wallet for some bills to leave on the table, looped his arm through hers, and led her out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may know that the movie they saw was Whiplash.


	13. Chapter 13

**Luba**

**October 2014**

 

She was about twenty meters ahead of him and decided to push the pace.  She was kicking herself for being here in the first place.  If only, Luba, so stupid.  If only she had put on her jacket after the novice class.  She could have gotten a ride from any one of a number of nice moms who lived out in the suburbs.  She could be home right now having eaten a quick meal with Julia before her class.  She could have been in the living room with three beautiful young couples, all expecting their first babies.  She could have been helping Julia demonstrate _help with pain_ poses. She could be hearing all about their pregnancies.  She could have had a hot shower with a full belly, could have put on soft jammies and could have gone to bed with book, phone and Netflix, the wonder trifecta.  If only she would have left.

Instead, she suggested one more half hour, which of course morphed into jump drill, which of course led to her having a mini-fit, which of course resulted in more kilometers on this stupid trail, and at least an hour in the gym before they would finally head home.  She would have a sad plate waiting in the microwave, an empty house, and ten minutes before she needed to be asleep.  So she pushed the pace on him. 

There was a bridge up ahead, probably three-fourths of a kilometer.  She couldn't sprint just yet, but she ran full out.  She wished she had put on music, but she had been so annoyed at the start; she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.  She had been determined to be miserable.  She was kind of over it now.

She passed the young guy she had been behind for much of the run and grunted out a _hey_ when he caught her eye.  _Yes, I am a hot Canadian badass,_ she said with her eyes. 

"Luba!"  She could hear it in the distance.  She was almost to the bridge.  She sprinted it out.

"Luba!"  She did some very show-offy stretches as she waited for Dylan.  Cute guy ran on past and gave her an appreciative nod.  She could see Dylan struggling a bit in the distance.  She turned her back and stretched down so that she could watch through her legs his approach.

When he reached her, he was quite out of breath.

"What the hell?" He seemed more annoyed than amused.

"It's run."

"Well, now we have to run back, and I have class in," he checked his phone, "Forty-two minutes."

"More frustrations out the faster I go," she smiled apologetically.  He rolled his eyes.  "Sorry.  I'll race you!" She took off before he could stop her, and she heard him make a frustrated noise before she heard his footsteps begin again.  He taught his Krav Maga at the gym tonight, so she would be on her own.  She hoped there was a Zumba class to avoid being bored out of her mind on equipment.  She thought longingly of the book on her nightstand that somehow didn't make it into her bag that morning.  She beat him to the car by almost three minutes.

"It's not a race," he huffed while drinking half his bottle.

"If it was a race..." she smiled.  "I'm so hungry.  I hope class goes by really fast."

"I think I'm going to stretch it out, and it serves you right."  He squeezed the last of his water out into his mouth and tossed it in the back seat. "I assume you're feeling better?"

"I'm fine.  No more jumping after class.  It never goes well."

"Good!  I wasn't the one..."

"I know!  You need to stop me," she offered him her bottle.

"I don't need your pity water."

"I just thought you might be still thirsty."

"I'm fine, we're here," they were pulling into the gym parking.

"So annoyed," she teased him. "Annoying partner Luba."

He yanked her ponytail, and she play kicked him in the ass from the side.  She was so ready to get out of workout clothes.  If she'd had a change in her bag she would totally sit out this session and take a long shower and do her hair.  But all she had was dirty laundry. 

"You going to work on the machines?  You can take my class."

"I think I don't need to get slammed to the mat today.  Hoping for Zumba."

"Well, have fun," he left her for the office and she looked over the schedule.  No Zumba, but there was a ballet/Pilates/stretch class that would be not terrible.  She hoped she didn't smell too bad.  She hung out in the back of the class and tried not to intimidate the instructor.  Most of the work felt good, and she wished Dylan were with her for the stretching.  She finished before his class was over and waited for him at the door. 

"Starving or exhausted?" He asked her as they were finally leaving.

"Both.  Exhausted, if I had to pick."

"Me, too." He put on loud music as they drove off, usually his signal that he did not want to talk, which was fine.  If he wanted another round of psycho-analysis of why jumps made her crazy, she would much rather listen to whatever bro-rock he was blasting.

She shut her eyes and realized she could probably fall asleep before they got home.  She willed herself awake so she could eat dinner and get a shower without feeling miserable.

Julia and Norman had already gone upstairs by the time they got home.  There was delicious looking vegetable soup in the microwave for them and salad and bread on the counter.  Dylan sniffed disapprovingly at the soup and made them both protein shakes to eat with it.

"This is really good," she commented as she ate the soup.  She could taste the rich stock Julia must have used.  Julia was an excellent cook.

Dylan snorted. 

"Why you are in such a bad mood?" She asked him, getting a bit annoyed herself.

"I'm not."

"Whatever."  She rinsed out her bowl and glass and put them in the huge dishwasher.  She stored the leftovers and wiped down the counter.  "Night," she called and didn't wait for a response.

She stripped her damp clothes and let the water fall all over her in the hot shower.  She closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment.  Then she washed from head to toe with lilac shower gel Kyra had given her and washed her hair.  She should shave, but she just didn't have the energy to stand there.  She would do it in the morning.  She dried off with the soft, yellow towel and put on soft, clean clothes.  She tried to read a few pages of _In the Beauty of the Lilies_ but couldn't focus sufficiently.  She set the alarm, plugged in the phone, and turned off the light.  Tomorrow would be better.

She thought of Dylan as she was drifting off.  They had gone out for his birthday with a big group of his friends, but he had kept her by his side the whole evening.  She figured it was because she didn't really know the group, but she wasn't shy.  She wasn't intimidated.  It had been wonderful--the most fun she'd had since their day at the shore. But since then, for the last two weeks, it had been business only.  He had stayed in Toronto the whole weekend with Bryce, and they had played video games all day and then gone to hear music.  No one had asked if she wanted to go with them.  She had gone shopping with Julia, which was nice, but...

She dreamed of a day in her university life in Russia.  Her train was delayed and she had wet hair for some reason and would have to figure out how to finish getting ready for school on the train and not be too late for her first class.  The time was ticking away and she was getting later and later and more panicked.  She woke up with a start at her alarm, stressed about being late.

Except she was in her bed in the Toronto suburbs, breakfast being cooked for her, and her grumpy but dependable, stable partner ready to drive her to the rink, not late.  She turned off the alarm and noticed she had three emails, which was one more than she usually woke up to.  Mama's, Papa's, and...

She screamed.  She looked at the text and screamed again.   She got up on the bed and started jumping, and then realized how rude that was and got off immediately.  She continued to jump on the floor and scream.

"Luba!" Dylan came running down the stairs to her room.

She threw herself into him.  "Release!  I got the release!  We're released!"

"Really?" He grabbed the phone and looked at it. "What does it say?" He tossed it back, laughing at himself.

"'We thank you for your years at Moscow'...the name of my club, 'we wish you success in your new partnership and will be looking at you with pride'. Oh!" Tears were coming fast.  Dylan swept her up and carried her towards kitchen, starting to sing.

"Oh Canada!" 

Luba smiled and rolled her eyes through the tears.  So corny.  But she sang with him. "My home and native land!"

Julia was standing in the kitchen looking at them like they had lost their minds.

"What on earth?"

Luba hopped down.  That was all the words of the anthem she knew so far, and she was a bit ashamed.  She would learn them today. "The release came through!"

"No!" Julia gasped.

"Yes!"  Luba wiped off a tear as Julia embraced her.

"Oatmeal won't do.  Maple leaf pancakes with strawberries." Julia got busy.

"Don't really have time, Mom," Dylan protested.

"Yeah, you do."

Dylan smiled and shook his head at Luba. His eyes registered something else. "Nice pajamas."

Luba looked down at the big, red cartoon dog on the shirt.  She was wearing matching short pajama bottoms.  They had been from her sister and family for last Christmas and featured a character they had loved as children.  She looked like a six year old. She blushed.

"I'm going to get ready, but I want the pancakes!" Luba kissed Julia's cheek and received the perfect motherly hug.  She needed to shave her legs and scooted into the shower trying not to slice herself to ribbons.

"Yay!" She said aloud.  "Yay!" And she let the tears fall down her face.


	14. Chapter 14

**Dylan**

**October 2014**

 

He and Bryce had taken off early Friday afternoon, which meant Lee and Luba had taken off, too.  Kyra was in town and had picked up Luba at the Cricket.  Dylan and Bryce headed back to the condo to get ready for the party. It had started out as a small get together to watch Skate Canada but had morphed into a real party. They were just serving pizzas and beer, but bathrooms needed to be cleaned and Dylan needed to unpack his stuff that was still pretty much in boxes.

He had moved out of the family house as soon as the funding had come through, which was two days after Luba was released.  Bryce offered Luba a room, too, but she wanted to stay with the folks.  Norman drove her in early every morning.  Nam got there at six before he had his high school classes, and Luba loved skating with him. There was always someone able to give her a ride home at night.  More than half of the city was making the same commute.  So for the first time since May, he and Luba were living separately.  Dylan had a lot of his old life back.  It was weird eating breakfast without her.

Last weekend they had traveled back to Barrie, which was in the same area he had lived for years training with Kirsten. He and Luba had debuted their long program at Octoberfest.  There were judges, and they got some feedback, but they were the only senior pair registered.  So, it was kind of a win?

The program went fairly well.  They fucked up the hand-to-hand lift at the end, which was his fault.  Her triple Salchow was not perfect, although not _too_ bad.  They were slow, and the spins were worse than they had ever done them--Lee loved that.  It had felt good, though.  Luba was a great performer and was completely committed to the character.  Skate Canada liked them enough to offer to send them to Warsaw Cup next month, so they would have a real competition before Challenge in December.

The overall vibe of the weekend had been fun.  Like, really fun.  They had laughed the whole way over in the car.  Luba didn't freak out at all when she bobbled the jump, and responded to his lift mess-up by hugging him.  There was no tension about the whole experience.  There was no blame; there was no awkwardness.  It was just the most fun he'd had at a competition in a very long time.  He wondered how they would be when they had real competitors. They had hit his favorite Waterloo restaurant afterward, and it wasn't anywhere near as good as he remembered.  He was thrilled to be heading back to Toronto.

Bryce's girlfriend Rachel, who didn't officially live in the condo with them, but pretty much did, arrived with massive bags of Halloween candy and big, themed bowls.

"Are we doing the whole Halloween thing? Cause I don't have a costume," Dylan said.

"Just wear your Michael Phelps get-up.  I brought scrubs for Bryce and me," Rachel was in med school.

"How many people do we expect for tonight?  Five or six from the rink, Luba and Kyra...?"

"I have some friends coming," Rachel said.  Dylan could tell she meant women.

"I'm not..."

"What? It's not a big deal.  It isn't a set up.  It's just people coming over."

Bryce arrived with the pizzas, and folks started streaming in.  Kyra and Luba were dressed just alike in low-cut black v-necks, black skinny jeans, boots and cat ears.  Both had whiskers drawn on their faces.  Dylan saw Luba in black, tight clothes every day, but this effect was different.  Her hair was styled, and she had full make-up along with the whiskers.  When he had left her that afternoon, she looked thirteen years old.  She now looked like a college student with his sister. 

"You look great," he told her as she was grabbing a water.  They would be the only two not drinking.  It was Friday, but they were in serious training mode now.

"Thank you.  None of it is mine." She had massive hoop earrings.  He flicked one lightly.

"You like those?" She asked him with a twinkle in her eye.

"Sure."

She laughed.  "I have some smaller ones for the short program, with the red dress.  I think they match the mood."

"Sure!" He laughed.

She patted him and rejoined Kyra.  

The main event was the pairs short program.  They gathered on the big, leather couches for the show.

"Before we begin," Bryce addressed the room.  "I have an appetizer for Dylan." He passed over his phone.  Dylan pushed play.  It was Kirsten and Marinaro during a practice session for Skate Canada.  They were doing a hand-to-hand lift.  Her position...wasn't terrible.

"What the hell?" He laughed. "Who sent this to you?"

"I have my sources," Bryce said cryptically. 

"What?  Why are they doing this?  How did Wirtz get her to...?"

"My guess is it's her punishment for dumping you," Bryce answered.  Kyra put up her drink in a toast at the thought, and the room followed her lead.

"And now..." Bryce turned up the volume on the big TV as Kirsten and Michael were setting up.  She was in a black, dominatrix dress thing, and he was in a black top with striped pants and suspenders and a red scarf tied around his neck.

"Chicago!" Kyra said as the titles flashed on the screen.  "Wow."

"Triple twist," Dylan said.  It was low and crashy.

"Hmmm," Luba murmured.

"Whoa! He was going for her cookie!" Kyra was staring at the screen.  They transitioned into their triple toes with choreography in which Marinaro half-heartedly grabbed at her boobs and then her...crotch, and she half-heartedly brushed his hands away.  They looked really nervous.  Dylan felt a half second of guilt for the snark.  Then he thought back and got over it.  Anyway, for all he knew there had been a similar scene in Waterloo last week with the Octoberfest tape.  Fuck them.

Her jump was perfect; his was okay. He heard Luba sigh.  He sat back next to her and patted her leg.

"He had it coming? If youda been there, if youda seen it, I betcha you woulda done the same?" Kyra was in full-outrage.

"It was already in the works, calm down," Dylan told her.

"You would be there, skating to that song?" Luba asked him.

"Yep, red neckerchief and all.  I would be having to grab the cookie," Dylan said.

"What is cookie?" Luba asked.  Thankfully Kyra mimed the crotch grabbing thing for her.

"Oooooh," Luba said and made a _yikes_ face.

"Nice throw," Dylan said generously.

"She did well.  He..." Bryce noticed, too, Marinaro's weird throw form.  "What the hell was that?"

Marinaro thoroughly fucked up the death spiral just as the commentator Rod Black was talking about Dylan.

"With her former partner, Dylan Moscovitch, who was known as one of the strongest male skaters in the pairs world..." Luba patted his knee and beamed.  "She hasn't missed much with Michael Marinaro.  Talking with the coaches, they say he has the goods."

"Oh, fuck you!" Kyra and Dylan said almost simultaneously.  Bryce was laughing, and Luba was making an outraged face.

"Right as he biffed the death spiral--they probably won't get credit," Bryce offered.

"Strength..." Black was continuing his point as Marinaro struggled to heave Kirsten in the air from a difficult entry.  "He's able to give Kirsten that security," Marinaro lifted her as if she weighed a hundred and fifty pounds.

"Come on, big boy, you can do it!" Justin, one of Dylan's non-skating friends, said.

"Oh, this is just sad," Kyra said.

It wasn't _that_ bad...but it wasn't that good, either.  It was a bit depressing.  Had he been that awful, that this was a better alternative?

But Luba was speechless.  She kept trying to find words as the couple finished.  Spins were decent, he thought, as Luba struggled to put together a sentence.

"Why?"  She said.  "Why would she...?  Her jump is so good...and she traded...? And why is Tracy so happy about them?" Their coach Tracy Wilson was doing commentary with Rod.

"She has to be--it's her job," Dylan told her.  He put his arm around her shoulder. He felt better about the whole thing. He looked at her and said very quietly, "I'm lucky she let me go," and Luba turned her upper body toward his and hugged him.  Bryce was giving him a look from his end of the couch, and Dylan sat up.  "Anyone need a drink during the commercial?"

Kyra followed him into the kitchen.  "I could kill her," she was fuming.

"You should be happy we're through.  You could be in Kelowna watching me..." and he splayed out jazz hands, "in those very pants." She laughed.

"Be careful with Luba," Kyra said.

"What...?"

"Just...be really careful. She's sensitive, and I'm not..." Kyra looked like she had stepped in something.  Dylan really didn't want to know what she was getting at.  He gathered the beers and brought them to the crowd just as the kiss and cry was coming back on. Marinaro grabbed Kirsten into an aggressive hug.  She was probably super nervous about the scores, but she looked like she didn't really want to be touched quite like that.

"Calm down, Mikey," Dylan laughed.

"So awkward," Bryce said.

53.79.  Bryce froze the TV in the moment of their _oh, shit_ faces registering the marks. 

"Gotta give it to Wirtz; his face game is strong," Bryce said.

"I don't want to be any of them for the next ten minutes," Dylan added. 

Most of the the party moved on--the non-skaters were no doubt relieved.  They kept the skating on.  Luba was excited to see the Russian couple, Zhenya and Vlad, who looked like Bill Weasely and Fleur Delacour. 

"You have to tell them to do a Harry Potter program," Kyra told Luba.

"They should!" She agreed. 

Dylan watched Vlad during their program.  He threw her effortlessly for the twist and got massive height.  She came down like it was the easiest thing in the world.  His lines throughout were finished; his butt stayed tucked in.  They weren't extraordinarily fast--they were a young team and still had a lot of room for improvement--but the whole program was beautiful.  Dylan realized a year ago he would have been arguing that the North American super-athletic style was the way to go.  And he felt sure that his friends Meagan and Eric were about to put on a clinic of this style.  But he loved watching this Russian pair.  It was beautiful and graceful and effortless and wonderful.  He saw Luba up there with her gorgeous spins and her perfectly turned out legs.  He couldn't skate like Vlad.  But he could work on it.

"You lift better," Luba told him quietly as they finished.

"I don't know, that was pretty impressive."

"They kind of...lost it there at the end," Luba added.

"It's hard."

"I like our short the best."

"Me, too."

 Eric and Meagan were great, but not as good as they had the potential to be.

"Fedor and Ksenia better watch out," Luba said.  "They are serious."

"Yeah, they look great.  I knew they would, they've been training nonstop."

"We will be very different than Kirsten and Michael _and_ Maegan and Eric," Luba looked at him.

"I think so, too, Luba, I think we're going to be something new.'

"Yes," she said very softly.  "I can't wait to go to Poland."

"I know. I can't wait to compete."

Kyra interrupted them.  "We have parties to attend.  We need to be seen," she grabbed Luba's hand. 

"Okay, but she needs to be home..."

"Don't worry, I'll call Norman at ten like he said," Luba told him.

"No one is calling Norman," Kyra said.  "I'll have her home by ten."

"Seriously, don't let her call Norman," Dylan told Kyra.

"Right?"  Kyra looked at him like, _what are you going to do_?.  "Come on, Lubie."

Luba said goodnight to Bryce and Rachel, and the girls left.  The crowd thinned and Dylan started cleaning up.  He had resisted the Halloween candy all night, but popped a fun sized Snickers in the spirit of Friday.

"Do we need to talk about Luba?" Bryce asked him.

"Leave him alone!" Rachel said.  "They are adorable.  She's adorable."

"What do you mean?" Dylan asked Bryce, not touching what Rachel said.

"Dylan.  Just don't.  She's totally dependent on you for everything.  She's...well, I mean think about it.  You swept into her life and changed it totally.  Just don't go there.  She's off limits."

"Dude.  Calm down.  She's not my type.  She's not even close."

"Yeah?  So you haven't even thought about it?"

Dylan didn't say anything.  Of course he'd thought about it.  Quite a bit lately.  She was tiny and feisty and hot when she was decked out.  Hell, he thought about it when she wasn't decked out.  Every time they ran he wanted to take that ass in his hands and...

"Bryce.  Don't worry. It's not going to happen."  And if it does, I'm not telling you about it.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Dylan**

**November 2014**

 

They were on a plane to London, continuing to Warsaw, which was a significant piece of luck.  His international travel usually consisted on stops and connections and layovers.  Enough people in Toronto apparently liked going to Warsaw.

Second piece of luck was that they were in a row by themselves.  Bryce and Lee were flying out the next day, having to finish one more day of training at the rink with other students.  So it was Dylan and Luba's big adventure.  She had already popped the middle arm rests and was sitting with her back against the aisle with her legs folded in front of her.  He had his back half-way on the window so he had a bit more room as well. He had a feeling she would talk the whole flight, which at least would make the time not crawl. 

They had gone over travel strategies earlier in the week.

"Don't eat anything we didn't bring or drink anything not bottled or boiled until after the long program," he offered.

"Agree.  Then we go out for Polish dinner."

"Of course."

They each had filled half of their suitcases with protein powder, soup mix, protein bars, and apples they hoped they wouldn't get caught with. 

"Very James Bond, right?" He had said as he wrapped up in a t-shirt two apple slicers they had pilfered from Julia's kitchen.

"Ooooh, intrigue."

She had put a good luck charm in each of their skate bags to ensure they wouldn't be lost.  They were a sophisticated operation. 

She had brought the sports page from the daily paper his father still faithfully subscribed to and read every morning with his breakfast.  There was a feature on Kirsten and Marinaro about their upcoming Grand Prix competition in France.  Dylan had been a little bit stressed they were going to run into each other at international departure, but thankfully they had not.

"Moore-Towers organizes weekly team-building activities like kayaking and crafts.  The team prepared an Italian meal for their coaches last month," she read to him.

"We need to give Lee and Bryce a make-up tutorial.  You could teach them to conjugate Russian verbs."

"Team-building?" She asked.

"We don't need no stinkin' team building.  We survived in the Detroit 'burbs for six weeks.  Anyway the whole thing reeks of trying too hard." It was not the first time he'd thought that regarding Kirsten.

"So, team-building is becoming friends and trusting your partner?" She gave him a smug smile.

"Exactly. If only everyone was like us."

"The world would be better," she laughed.  "Oh here's us," she continued reading, "Moore-Towers' former partner Dylan Moscovitch has teamed up with Russian skater Lubov Iliushechkina.  The pair received word earlier in the month that the Russian skating federation had released Iliushechkina to skate for Canada.  Moore-Towers and Moscovitch will meet each other in competition with their new partners for the first time in December at Skate Canada Challenge in Montreal," she read the name of the city with a French accent. "Drama."

"Indeed.  But maybe it will drum up a little interest."

Luba packed the newspaper away. "We'll always be linked to them."

"Probably.  And we also probably need to get over it as much as possible."

"Agree," Luba accepted a bottle of water from the flight attendant with a smile and passed him one.  

"I'm ready to be at the point where it's just our team, it's just us, and we're judged as any other team and not are they better or worse than they were with their former partners."

"But they didn't help that by using the programs you would have been in."

"Right, I know.  But, honestly, they probably didn't have much choice.  The programs were already developed, and they would have had to pay for all new.  We got to start from scratch. AND end up with something so much better.  I would be in the black and white Freddy Mercury onesie skating to that awful Chess thing.  I mean, James Bond is cheesy, but at least it's fun."

"I love James Bond!" she protested.

"I know you do.  I love it, too.  But the guns, you know, it's campy.  It's campy on purpose." She was scowling at him, and he tried to back track a bit.  "David's a genius."

He could tell it wasn't forgiven. "You skate what they tell you to skate in Waterloo? You wear what they tell you to wear?" She asked him.

"Not completely.  We had input.  I assume that Kirsten liked the programs.  And sometimes you just do what you're told because it's easier and you trust your team, and then when you figure out you don't like it, it's too late to change."

There was a meal service that they declined. They talked and talked.  They talked about the books she was reading for Kyra's literature seminar.  They talked about their favorite shows growing up.  They talked about the skaters they liked and the ones they didn't.  Luba put together her ideal skater.  Meagan's athleticism, Canadian Kaitlyn's legs, Tessa's grace, Aliona's fearlessness, Ksenia's focus, Lena's dramatic style, and Meryl's hair.

"If I had that hair, I would be an ice dancer," she sighed.

"You're a pairs girl.  You would be bored being an ice dancer.  They're peacocks."

"With this hair, I have to be pairs girl," she said with mock sadness.

"What's wrong with your hair?"

"It just goes into a ponytail or knot.  It doesn't flooooooow."  She mimed flowing hair behind her head. "They're not just peacocks, have you ever tried ice dance?"

"Not really, no."

"You would have to skate on an edge," she teased him.

"I can skate on an edge!"

She looked at him flatly.  "You would have to skate on an edge when not landing a jump or doing a spiral."

"You are being offensive.  I can hold an edge!"

"Can you twizzle?"

"I can twizzle," he looked at her convincingly.  "I could fake a twizzle. You could ice dance, but why would you want to?"

"Obvious reason."

The jumps.  It always came down to the jumps.

"You would miss the throws.  You would miss flying around that high.  You were born a pairs girl.  You have the necessary mind set."

"Crazy?"

"Exactly.  Good crazy."

"And pairs boy? Is he crazy?"

"In a different way.  Hours in the gym to wear ridiculous clothes and try to dance a bit.  Different in Russia, I guess."

"More emphasis on the dancing, for sure.  Same strength requirements.  More ridiculous costumes. You wouldn't get away with white shirt, black pants."

"That's one thing about having no money." They'd thrown together costumes before they had funding.  New outfits for the short program had been ordered but weren't here in time.  They were using old Bryce and Jessica costumes for Warsaw.  His costume for the long would probably be improved in time for Nationals, but she loved her blue dress they had bought off the rack in Toronto.

They talked about school and friends, which morphed into young loves.

"No one at school," Luba said. 

"Never?"

"No, I had...likes?"

"Crushes." He helped her.

"Crushes, but no one who crushed me back."

Dylan laughed. "So first love?"

"Not sure I've had love.  I had a boyfriend who was a skater in St. Petersburg, so we didn't see each other very much.  That fell apart around the time everything else was.  I liked him a lot.  Maybe could have been love eventually."

"And the guy you were dating for his apartment?" Dylan teased her.

"Was not dating him for the apartment.  That was just a...benefit.  He was fun.  He was funny."

"The other girlfriend thought so, too."

She laughed.  "Apparently so.  Did you have school loves?"

"I had girlfriends, but no one serious until I was seventeen.  Then I was with the same girl until I was almost twenty-one. She dumped me for someone she met at university."

"And girlfriends before Sarah?"

"Several.  No one really serious."

"So Sarah was different?"

Dylan wasn't sure he really wanted to go into this, but he hadn't talked about it with anyone, even Bryce, and he thought it might help to get it out.  "Sarah was my only real...adult relationship." Luba looked very confused.  "I don't mean physically, obviously, but she was the first person I ever settled down with, as much as I was able to settle down training full time.  I stayed with her every weekend, we spent holidays together, we were thinking about getting a dog, that's the first time I'd ever done that."

"And you loved her?"

"I mean...yes.  I loved her.  We never said it out loud..."

"And you broke up with her or..."

"She broke up with me, but it was not a surprise. It had been ending for a while."

"Do you miss her?"

"I miss her--I miss her friendship most of all.  I could talk to her about anything, and she was my support person for the whole last year.  But I don't think it would have worked out, and it's probably good it ended when it did.  Do I owe you for therapy?"

"No, it's nice to be on the other side of the therapy." She smiled and her warm, brown eyes made his stomach flip, just a little bit.  "For once," she added.

They were landing in London.  About half the plane exited.  More people boarded, but thankfully no one sat in their middle seat.  They popped the armrests again as soon as they were back up in the air. 

"Short flight," he commented.

"I'm very tired," she answered.  He was, too.  They stretched out so they were each taking their seat plus part of the one in the middle.  She leaned against him.  "Is this okay?" she asked.

"Sure."  She took off her jacket and draped it on herself.  In minutes, she was asleep with her head on his chest.  He adjusted the rather useless airline pillow between his head and the window and moved his arm so it wouldn't be squashed.  He matched her breathing.

The next thing he knew, landing prep instructions were being squawked on the intercom.  A flight attendant had covered them with a soft-ish navy blanket. Luba was nestled into him, fast asleep.  He shook her gently.

"Already?" She said, still mostly asleep.

"We're here."

"Where did the blanket come from?"

"It appeared while we were sleeping."

"That was nice." She had sat up and folded it. 

They made it through customs without much hassle.  There was a shuttle waiting to take them to the hotel, and both sets of skates and luggage made it with them. It was a short drive, and they didn't get to see much of the city.  The long program was in the early afternoon in two days, so they would have some time to explore.  The hotel was fine, nothing fancy.  The rooms were ready, which almost never happened.  They checked in with the skating officials and turned over their music.  They had an hour and a half before they needed to get on the shuttle to the venue for their practice.  They went their separate ways at the rooms. Dylan would be sharing with Bryce and Lee after tonight--not looking forward to figuring out the bed sharing situation.  Luba was on her own.

He was usually happy to get  to the room on a travel day and leave traveling companions for a while.  He and Kirsten had rarely sat together for a flight, and they had never talked for seven hours straight.  He found himself wishing Luba was there, not so that he could jump on her, which wouldn't be the worse thing ever, but it wasn't why he was missing her.  She was pleasant, fun, and kind, and it would have been nice to just have her there.

He took a shower and then collapsed on the bed with a towel around him.  And then he heard a knock on the door and realized he had fallen asleep, and it must be Luba there to walk down to the shuttle with him.

"Just a sec!" He pulled on some clean underwear and wrapped the towel back.  She was on the other side of the door, dressed to skate but looking pretty wrecked.

"Hey," he said and let her in. He saw her slightly double-take at the towel.  "I fell asleep."

"That's the mouth of death."

He laughed, "Kiss of death."

"Kiss of death." She sat on the bed with her back to him so he could get dressed, but he took his stuff into the bathroom.  He pulled on his clothes as quickly as possible and brushed his teeth.

"Ready!"

They grabbed their skates and headed down.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Luba**

**November 2014**

 

The sky over Warsaw was greyish-brown, and it made Luba homesick.  This was as close to Moscow as she would be in quite a while, she supposed. She wished her family had the sort of lifestyle that they could pick up and fly to Warsaw to see her.  She was exhausted and more than a little nervous about stepping onto practice ice for a real international competition.

They were only up against three other teams.  Dylan had joked that they only had to beat one--just one--to get on the podium.  As they shuffled out of the van and into the venue, the first person she saw was a friend.

"Valentina!" she called across the lobby.

"Canadian Luba!" Beautiful Valentina ran towards her and threw her arms around her for a bear hug.  "I was so excited to hear you and Dylan would be here," Valentina hugged Dylan.  "Ondrej and Jason are around, the locker rooms are over here." She led Luba away by the hand.

"How are things in Detroit?" Luba asked her.  Valentina had been an Italian singles skater for years and had switched over to pairs when Ondrej's former partner retired.  She had struggled as much with pairs elements as Luba did with jumps, and they had bonded over it.

"It's CRAZY like always in Grand Prix.  I just put my head down."

"How is Canadian Alex? She seems okay when we text, but..."  Alex and Mitch had struggled and had been severely low-balled by the judges at their Grand Prix events.

"She's okay.  Not great, obviously.   And American Alex moved to Canton, and they have struggled, too."

"I know, I talked to her last week."  They were tying on their skates.

"Luba!  Beautiful!  Big improvement," Valentina laughed about Luba's skates.

"They made me get them the first day."

"Did you keep your old ones, because those were special."

"I did keep them.  They are good reminder."

They walked arm in arm to the ice to meet up with the boys.  Detroit had been like summer camp.  Luba looked back at it and didn't really remember the stress.  It had been the most fun six weeks of her life. She suspected these people would be her favorites for a very long time.  She hugged Ondrej, and he took her hand across the gate.  Dylan was already skating.  They were the only skaters for the first fifteen minutes of the session, and they had a blast skating around and practicing elements. The Italians' coach Jason had helped Dylan and Luba in Detroit, and he was calling out encouragement to them.

"The Russians have arrived," Dylan said in his James Bond voice.  Luba looked over to see coaches she knew, although not well, and the two young teams crossing the gate.  She inhaled sharply and then took Dylan's hand to skate across the ice.  "You okay?" He asked her.

"Fine.  That's Lina and Maxim."

"I know who they are.  They look like they're in middle school."

Lina had been the wunderkind of Russian pair skating for years.  At the end of Luba's partnership with Nodari, Luba was being compared negatively to Lina on a regular basis.  _We don't need you when we have Lina.  She does what you do, but she does it better._ Nobody said it in so many words, but it was communicated clearly.  Lina had been fourteen at the time.

She and Dylan skated over and greeted Lina and Max. 

"Luba! I'm so happy to see you!  Congratulations on your new partner!  He is..." Lina made a face like Luba had landed a prize.

"Yes, it's good to see you.  Good luck!"  The guys shook hands and they skated off.

"What did she say?" Dylan asked her.

"She's a fan of yours," Luba teased him.

"Really? Wow. I like her."

Luba pushed away from him  and made a face.  He caught up with her and grabbed her around the waist and led her into the Bond choreography where they transitioned into the pair spin.  The ice felt good.

The officials played the music for the four short programs, so each team could have a run through.  Lina and Max were using a different (not nearly as good) cut of the the same song.

"You have GOT to be kidding me," Dylan said as the familiar music played again after they were finished with their program.  "We have to be better." 

They finished the practice and left to take off their skates.  Luba had a short, cordial conversation with the Russian coaches, who were polite but not overly friendly.  It was late afternoon, and the sky was completely black, another reminder of home. She chatted with Valentina on the shuttle and tried not to fall asleep in the middle of the conversation.  The short program was at eleven the next morning.  They would stay at the venue for the whole event because they had long program practice at the end of the day.  It was going to be long and tedious, and Luba couldn't wait to get in bed.

"Eat something," Dylan reminded her as they parted for separate rooms.

"You, too.  Good night."  She forced herself to eat a protein bar and apple and fell asleep after reading about five words in her book.

She woke up feeling better but starving and wishing they could have a real breakfast. She took a shower and then made an instant oatmeal packet using the little hand water boiler Julia had found for her.  Coffee would wait until she was in the lobby waiting for the shuttle.  She put on her nicest practice outfit and was doing hair and makeup when Dylan knocked at the door.  She threw the covers over the bed as to not look sloppy and let him in.  He had two coffees in his hand.

"Oh!  Bless you!" She took her cup and hugged him.  He was ready to go for the day.  "I'm almost ready. She put enough hairspray on to hold up in torrential rain.  Her lipstick clashed with the salmon tinted red of Jessica's dress, so she toned it down with a shade that was pinkish orange.  Then she blotted it and added a bit more red.  Then she put on a coat of pink gloss, made a face, and took it all off to start over.

"That looks very scientific." Dylan was sprawled on the bed looking at her in the mirror.

"It's hard to get it just right. I wish Kyra were here." For more than just make-up, she thought. She put a light coat of the red, a light coat of the orange, and clear gloss.  Better.  She put in her earrings and tied on her trainers.  "Ready!" She grabbed the garment bag that had both costumes and her skate bag and they headed out the door. Lee and Bryce were meeting them at the venue straight from the airport.  They were already there when Luba and Dylan arrived. 

"Triple twist," Lee told them as a greeting.  They had only completed one before in a run through.  They could do them consistently in practice when they were just going over elements, but when they were running the program they struggled with the timing.

"Are you sure?" Dylan asked him with a little bit of fear.

"Nothing to lose."  Lee pulled Luba into a side hug.

The ice felt good again.  The warmup went by in a flash, and Luba was nervous to the point of illness, but she pushed through. They were skating first, which was ideal.  Luba felt like she would spend the whole time in the bathroom throwing up if she had to wait.

The triple Salchow was the opening element.  She panicked on the take-off, tensed in the rotation and tripped her way out of the landing.

"Sorry."

"Shake it off."

They transitioned into the twist.  She went up too horizontally but got in the three turns.  Her arm crashed against his shoulder.  She was going too fast into the next step and almost fell, but Dylan grabbed and righted her.  "OH!"

"It's okay.  Here we go."  He held her waist as she kicked into the transition, and then he threw her...

She landed perfectly with a flourish and shot him a smile. 

They kicked the rest of it squarely in the ass.  The crowd cheered when Dylan rose from his knee on the lift, and she breathed a huge sigh when they were finished.  He held her close.

"Great, Luba.  Really, really good."

She started to whine about the jump and then stopped herself.  It wouldn't do any good.  Lee and Bryce were reserved but generally pleased.  Their score was okay for having a major mistake.  She felt like the person who ruined the party, but she tried to keep it to herself. 

It was great to be finished and just watch the other programs.  The first Russian pair came in three points behind, and Valentina and Ondrej had a mistake on the throw and ended up four points back.

Lina and Max took the ice looking very confident.

"Oh look, black pants, white shirt," Dylan teased her.

"White shirt opened to here," Luba drew a line with her finger down her chest to her belly button.

"I'm going to wear mine that way tomorrow."

"Sexy Bond."

"Yeah, bedroom Bond."

It was impossible not to compare Lina and Max's _Feelin' Good_ to theirs, and Luba adored their own, so it was impossible not to be highly critical of the Russians' version.  She didn't like the music cut, she didn't like the lack of character, and she thought they looked immature.  She felt like she and Dylan deserved to lead but probably wouldn't until Lina splatted on an under rotated triple toe.  Luba didn't allow her face to betray anything, but Dylan took her hand and squeezed it.  They held on to their lead by almost two points at the end. 

They poured over the protocols with Lee and Bryce in the stands.  They had won on the throw and PCS.  Lina and Max buried them in the twist, enough so that their technical score was higher.

"Do the double tomorrow," Lee decided.  "If it's perfect you'll score the same, and it won't throw off the transition." 

They spent the rest of the day watching the competition with Valentina and Ondrej and eating their depressing little bag of snacks.  Luba could hardly wait for the long to be over so she could have a meal.  The evening practice went well, and the double twist was flawless.  No one else had a James Bond program.

When they got back to the hotel, Luba ducked in the gift shop and bought two souvenir shot glasses and two tiny bottles of vodka.  She knocked on the guys' door, and Bryce answered.

"Can I see Dylan for a minute?" She asked.

Dylan came out, and she ducked behind the door to show him what was in the bag.

"What the hell?" He laughed.

"Shhhhh!  It's tradition before the long.  Come with me," she implored him.

"I'll be back in a few," Dylan called back into the room.  "We will be in so much trouble."  He was still laughing, though.

"Not if they don't know.  Tell them I was bitching to you about jumps." She opened the door to her room and pushed him in.  "We have to hurry, or Bryce will be down here."  She snapped the lids in seconds inspected the glasses.  She scooted into the bathroom with a bottle of water to rinse them out.

"Because we wouldn't want to be drinking illicitly out of dirty glasses!  I suspect Polish vodka will kill any germs." Dylan called out.

Luba wiped out the glasses, poured a bottle in each, and handed one to Dylan.  "Go!" she said.

"Go? That's best you've got?" He picked up the glass and held it at eye level.  "Ugh!"

"Go!" She said more emphatically and clinked his glass with hers.  She looked him in the eye and downed the shot, smacking it on the table in style.  He was just a second behind her.

"Oh, uggggggh!" He said in a shaking voice as he bent at the waist to recover from the shot.

"Good luck tomorrow, Dylan," she said and kissed him on both cheeks.

"Good luck, crazy girl.  Sleep well.  Save this for me," he handed her his shot glass.

 

Because they were first place in the short they had to skate last.  It was nerve wracking, but Luba was looking forward to skating the long, and she felt like they had a good shot.  Valentina and Ondrej were much better in the long, and beat the young Russian team.  Lina and Max had a Russian folk program.  Lina stepped out of the first jump and singled one on their combination.  The twist, though, was high and effortless.  They put up an easily beatable score.

And then Luba did everything she could to be beaten.  Step out of the triple toe.  Too far forward on the triple Sal.  Tiny foot down in the first throw.  Hand down in the second.  He was going to put her on the plane right back to Moscow.

"It's okay!" He hugged her.  She didn't want to face the coaches.  "Luba, it's okay.  Minor stuff.  It will be fine. My timing was off, too.  We'll be on the podium."

Lee and Bryce were very nice as well, but she looked at the scores through her fingers.  107.62.  They won.  Dylan put his arm around her and squeezed.  She still felt miserable.

"Don't morn a win," he told her.  She tried not to.  It was embarrassing, though.  What she wanted most in the world was to be great.  And now, she didn't want to just be great for herself and her family.  She didn't want to be great just to show those people they had been wrong about her.  She wanted to be great for him, so they could be great together. 

They won some hideous luggage full of products from sponsors, rather pretty trophies, and about six thousand Canadian dollars.  She had forgotten about the spoils, and it was enough to get her out of her funk.  Then she got to sing _Oh, Canada_ for the first time on a podium, and she now knew every word.  Dylan had his hand around her waist and pulled her into him as she sang out.  Lina gave her a bit of a side-eye, but Valentina was beaming.  Lina hugged her warmly, though, at the end, and Luba couldn't begrudge Lina's mixed feelings about Luba's new situation. 

Finally they were free of the skating rink.  The four of them got a cab to downtown Warsaw.  Dylan insisted on eating first, which was fantastic news for Luba.  They got stuffed cabbage and pirogis and a side of lots of cucumbers with sour cream.  Luba was sad to be too full for dessert, but ate a bite of Dylan's cheesecake and closed her eyes in pleasure.  They walked around downtown and took pictures of everything beautiful in sunset.  By seven they were hungry again and stopped for coffee and sandwiches before heading back to the hotel.  They had to leave at five for the airport.  Bryce and Dylan were talking and laughing loudly on the walk back.  Luba was enjoying the feel of the city with her scarf wrapped around her nose.  It was cold in Toronto, but this was a different kind of cold.  This was a home kind of cold.  Dylan dropped back to walk with her.

"It's so beautiful here," he told her.

"I know.  I love it.  This is the best part."

"The best part of...?"

"The best part of skating.  Especially when you can't be perfect." She regretted adding that last bit immediately.  She felt like she had spoiled the mood.

"You can't be perfect. It's never perfect. It was fun, and we got out there.  And we won, right?"

"Yes."  She smiled. "It was fun for the most part." She laughed.

"It was fun.  The whole thing was fun.  As long as we're having fun, let's just keeping doing this."

"Okay."  She bumped up against him affectionately, and he put his arm around her shoulder.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Dylan and Luba**

**December 2014 (1)  
**

 

They left for Challenge five days after they got back from Poland. They had a light training week.  Lee, Bryce, and Dylan banned Luba from jump drill.  She only was allowed to jump during run-throughs.  She didn't miss one all week.  She begged to jump and miss so she wouldn't have that perfect record hanging over her during the start of the short program.  Lee smiled, shook his head, and told her she could jump as soon as she was on practice ice in Montreal.

Lee and Bryce were flying at the last moment, but Luba talked Dylan into making the five and a half hour drive.  She wanted to see the country, and a road trip sounded perfect after the long flight from Warsaw. He warned her it was mostly boring highway, but she didn't care.

Dylan slept in his old room the night before, so they could get an early start.  They got up with Norman and had breakfast together before they loaded up the SUV with the garment bags and skates.  Luba hugged Norman, and he kissed the top of her head before shaking Dylan's hand and wishing them luck.  Julia and Kyra were coming in time for the short, but Norman was on call.

They left at dawn before commuter traffic was too bad and then settled in for the drive, listening to music and being mostly quiet.  Every time Dylan looked over, Luba had a huge smile on her face.

"What is up with you?"

"Nothing.  I'm excited."  The smile persisted.

They stopped just inside Quebec for gas and snacks.  Luba was dying to speak French, and while the cashier probably would have understood her English better than her Continental French with thick Russian accent, the older woman seemed pleased with Luba's effort.

They shared a bag of trail mix and chatted about nothing for the rest of the drive.

 

**Dylan**

Dylan was not quite as thrilled as Luba at having to skate in this event.  It was the first time in years he didn't have an exemption straight to Nationals, but this year, of course, they had to qualify.  That Kirsten and Marinaro also had to go through this was some consolation, but it also added the pressure of having to compete against them.  He had seen Kirsten twice since the split, both at Canadian Olympian events, and both had been okay but awkward.  He had an irrational urge to punch Marinaro in the face, and he while he knew he wouldn't, he wasn't looking forward to the reunion.

His GPS got them easily to the hotel, an old and charming one he had stayed in many times before.  It had an amazing bar and a better than average restaurant.  He paid the valet guy and told him they would be taking the shuttle until their departure.

He checked them in and registered with the skating officials.  He had his own room this time. Sharing with two coaches twice in a week was too much.  Not having to buy plane tickets for themselves justified the expense.  They went up on the old, beautifully finished elevator to their rooms on the eighth floor, next door to each other.  Both were in practice clothes, so they just threw the bags on their beds and took their skates back down.  He thought it likely that Kirsten, Marinaro and the Wirtzes would be waiting in the lobby, but there was no sign of them.

It was a fifteen minute drive to the rink, and Luba's leg was bobbing up and down the whole time.  He finally put a gentle hand on it.

"Sorry.  Nervous."

"I am, too.  It will be fine.  Lee and Bryce will be there.  Their singles already practiced.  It's going to be fine," he was trying to convince himself as well, which was ridiculous.  He had skated at the Olympics for goodness sake.  This was the smallest of potatoes.  And yet he felt like he was about to vomit all over the van.  Charming.

They met the coaches in the lobby and went straight into the dressing rooms.

"If Kirsten is in there, just be friendly," he told Luba.  She looked at him like he was nuts.

"I think it will be okay," she said with a laugh and went on in.  The men's locker room was filled with juniors, who surrounded him.

"Dylan!  We didn't know you were here!  Good luck, man!"

You, too.  Dylan hardly ever got recognized on the street, but he and Kirsten were the biggest names at this thing.  It was flattering.  He tied on his skates and headed out, almost smacking into Kristy Wirtz.

"Dylan!" She grabbed him and hugged him hard.  She made a sound in the back of her throat.  "I've missed you." She let him go.  "I'm so excited for you and Lubov.  You look amazing together. I'm so impressed."

"I've missed you, too, Kristy." Except not really.

"Dylan!"

He repeated the scene with Kris.  Over his former coach's shoulder he saw Kirsten and Marinaro already on the ice, and Luba at the boards talking to Lee and Bryce, whom he nodded to and threw a look like _rescue me_.

"Good luck!" He said to the coaches and joined his team.

"You ready?" Bryce asked him.

"Let's go." He and Luba handed over their skate guards and crossed the gate.  Kirsten and Marinaro had just finished practicing a twist and saw them just them.  They stopped in their tracks.  Luba grabbed Dylan's hand and skated over.

"Hi!" She called out as if she was meeting someone she greatly admired for the first time.  She hugged Kirsten, and Dylan saw Kirsten's face light up. He shook hands with the fetus.

"Marinaro."

"Dylan. Hey!"  Marinaro slapped him on the back. 

"I...I've been waiting to see you.  How are you?" Luba was a master.  Kirsten hugged her again. 

"I've been hoping to see you, too.  I remember that Skate Canada so well!"

"I know, can you believe it?  I wanted to tell you how much I like your skating."

"Thank you, Lubov.  I love your skating, too.  Hey, Dylan." She looked at him like she was about to face a dentist, so he tried to put her at ease.  He hugged her lightly. 

"Hey, Kirsten."

"It's nice to meet you, Michael." Luba was shaking hands.

"You, too, Lubov."

"Please, Luba is nickname."

"And I'm Mike."

Not fucking likely, Dylan thought.  That chore over, they finally were able to skate.

"That was impressive," he told Luba. 

"What?"

"You handled her perfectly."

"I was just trying to be nice," she said sincerely.  He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her neck gently.

"You have a gift with people."

"Whatever, Dylan." She laughed.  "I think I will jump now and really put her at ease."

"It's okay to sandbag." She looked at him quizzically.

"Never mind."  They ran the elements, including the triple Sal, which was good as it was in run-throughs. Lee and Bryce looked on happily.  They played their music and marked the program.  Kirsten and Marinaro were skating right after them, so their _Chicago_ played next.  He and Luba stayed out of their way, but Luba was singing and dancing along.

"Squish! Cicero! Uh-oh!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him into hold and sang out loudly. "I bet that you would have done the same!" She was improvising a tango, and he played along. "I love this song!"

"I can tell."  He laughed at her. She seemed to have gotten over the nerves.  Landing that jump helped for sure.  They finished the session and had a conference with the coaches, giving the other team time to catch a shuttle before them.  Dylan really did not want to make small talk if it could be avoided.  Bryce and Lee had to stay for practice with their junior singles, so Dylan and Luba headed back to the hotel alone.

"I can't wait for tomorrow!" Luba was practically giddy.

"You seem right in the best place," he told her.

"I am.  I have the new dress..."

He made a face.

"No, it's something," she protested.  "I can't wait to wear it.  I feel so ready and so happy."

It was late afternoon, and all they had eaten that day was trail mix.  "You want to go down for dinner at six-thirty? I need to get a shower and rest a little."

"Perfect.  Meet...?"

"I'll knock on your door." They had arrived at the lobby and headed to the elevators.  Several people called out his name, and he waved. 

"And Lubov," someone said, and she beamed.  They got on the elevator and she was full of nervous energy bouncing about.  Every time someone got off on a floor, they wished Dylan and Luba good luck. 

"Everyone loves Dylan," she teased him as they were walking to the rooms. 

"Tomorrow, everyone will love you," he said. "I'll see you in...an hour and a half?"

"Okay!" and her ponytail bounced behind her through the door.

He showered, rested and watched basketball and hockey highlights on TSN.  At six fifteen he put on khakis and a button down.  He wished he had brought a jacket, but he hadn't realized how visible he would be. He checked out his reflection and made sure he didn't have anything in his teeth. It would do.

He grabbed his key, wallet and phone and walked to her door.  She answered shortly after his knock.  He breathed in sharply when he saw her.  She had transformed from cute figure skater to ridiculously sexy.  Her hair was curled and pinned with sparkles near her face.  She had dramatically lined eyes and red lips.  She was wearing the low-cut sweater from Halloween with tight, skinny blue jeans and high-heeled black boots.

"Wow.  You look..."

"Thank you." She smiled, and it was Luba again.

He offered her his arm, and she took it.  "Let's go."

They repeated the elevator scene, and opted to eat in the bar to avoid the crowd in the restaurant.  They ordered bland food and mineral water, and both looked longingly at the bar. 

"We could do more shots," he suggested.

"Not until after the short," she said sadly.

"Yeah."

"Should we talk only in French?" She asked him with cute, sly look.

"I only know one sentence, and saying _the cow is white_ doesn't give us much to talk about."

"How do you not know French?"

"I did know some.  I just haven't been in school in a long time.  And I'm not good with language like some people."

"I'm not good.  I make mistakes constantly."

"You are amazing, Luba.  Imagine me trying to get along in Moscow."

"You would learn.  That would be something, though.  If we were in...alternate..." she looked at him for help.

"Alternate universe?" He suggested.

"Alternate universe!  And you came to Moscow to train with me at my club, and we had Russian coach, and you lived with Mama and Papa and had to go on the train hours every day.  I don't think you would like it much."

"I think it would be very interesting."

"You would see how easy it is here."

"We wouldn't have to worry about money so much?" He suggested.

"Oh, we would, just in different ways," she laughed.  "You could meet my family and friends, though.  That would be great."

"Maybe we'll get to skate in Russia next year, and I _can_ meet them."

"That would be a dream," she said and smiled at him. 

Their food arrived, and she ate half her sandwich and a few fries.  He did much better, of course.  She was telling him a story about going out to a club with her friends and convincing some poor guy she was from Paris and staying in a swanky hotel in Moscow and hardly able to speak Russian, and he was buying her drinks expectantly, and then she ditched him.

"That's not nice!"

"His hands were not nice.  He got what he deserved," she laughed, and the thought of someone handling Luba turned him on.  She was sitting right across from him, and one shoulder of her top had fallen down.  There was a black bra strap torturing him.  He wanted to touch that shoulder, to run his hand over the strap. To brush a finger over her jaw to her lips.

She took a last drink from her water through the straw and looked at him with smiling eyes.  "It was funny." She had the slightest pout, and he wanted to take that mouth into his.  Oh, dear.  The waiter brought the check, and he handed over his card.

"Thank you, this was great," she said.  "We can maybe drink here with Kyra and Julia tomorrow after the short."

"No Montreal shot glasses?"

"Oh, yes.  I'll get some.  But we could do shots here.  I like this bar."

"I do, too."  He stood up, and she did too.  He put his hand on the small of her back to lead her to the elevator.  He kept it there while they were waiting.  With his thumb, as lightly as he could, he reached above the belt on her jeans to her back and brushed it gently, rhythmically.  She didn't react.  The elevator dinged and she clamped her hand on his and pulled him in.  Several others got on with them, and there was another round of _Hey Dylan! Hey Dylan!_   He had never been less happy to have his name called out.  She pulled him to the back of the elevator and stood right in front of him. Very casually, he put one hand on her right hipbone. She very subtly backed into him so her ass was pressed against him.  She caught his eye in the mirror and stared into it.  He was hard against the small of her back. She moved ever so slightly against him.

Third floor.  "Good luck, Dylan!"

"Thanks."

Fifth floor.  "Good luck you guys, we'll be there tomorrow!"

"That's great!  Thank you!" Luba said.  She pressed herself against him again.

Sixth floor.  "Good luck!"

"Thanks!" They said in sync.

Eighth floor.

He exited right behind her, least scandalously as he could manage.

"Good luck!" He waved back in response.  The doors finally shut.  He grabbed her hand and they practically ran to the first door.  There was a small entry way with walls on both sides.  There was no one in the hall, but if someone left their room or exited the elevator, Dylan and Luba would not be visible until they were passed. He scooped her up and she wrapped her legs around him so they were face to face.  He looked her, waiting for her to smash her mouth against his.  That's what he was hoping for.  She would start kissing him, and then they would be off, and he could justify the whole thing easily.  _Come on!  Kiss me already!_

Instead she pressed her forehead against his and closed her eyes.

"This is not our rooms," she whispered.

"I know."

"Come on," she said and took his hand.  He stopped them at his room and opened the door.  He let her inside first. She turned to face him and looked up at him.  He grabbed her to him and kissed her.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, opening her mouth. He picked her up again and she pulled her legs around tightly against him.  He pressed his hands on either side of her face and put his forehead against hers again.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

She kissed him tenderly in response and smiled at him.  He put her down and lifted her top over her head. Finally.  The curtains were cracked, letting in just enough light.  The bra was black lace and see-through, revealing light brown areolas he had speculated about for months.  She kicked off her boots and pulled down her jeans showing tiny black panties resting just under her hip bones. He reached around to her ass and pulled her back up against him feeling the tiny firmness of it finally all his.  She was kissing him and slowly unbuttoning his shirt, which she pulled out of his waistband and discarded on the floor.  He put her down, reached around and unhooked her bra--success on the first try, hurray, and let it fall down.  She put her arms around him again so he could feel her breasts on his bare chest, and they both shuddered.  He hoisted her up again and took one breast and then the other into his mouth, which made her moan and writhe beneath him.

He walked her to the bed and laid her down, close to the end.  He took off the panties, and starting with her belly, kissed his way down.  She moaned and opened her legs wide for him.  He ran his tongue against her, up and down and around as her moans got louder.  He slipped in one finger and then two, and he thought she was about to come, when she sat up slightly and pulled him to her.  She reached down for the button of his pants and yanked them down.  he kicked them off and pushed her up the bed with him on top of her.  She was grinding against him, and he kissed her and rubbed her with his hand.

He disentangled and stood up, walking briskly to his bag and pulled out a condom.  He had bought a new box before Poland, not really planning anything except the fact that for the first time in over a year he was single at a skating event. He dropped his underwear on the floor.  She sat up and took it from him, opening the package and rolling it on him.

"So big," she said, teasing him.

He laughed.  "Of course.  Everything is big here. Houses, cars..."

"Yes."  She pulled him back as she lay down again.  He brushed the hair away from her face and looked at her.  She kissed him and helped guide him into her.  They both moaned. She was hot and wet and soft and perfect, and he thrust into her realizing he was too close.  He pulled out and went down on her again, holding her hips firmly and laying his tongue flat against her while he fucked her with his two fingers.  He felt her come against his mouth, and she cried out and boxed his ears with her thighs.  It was rapturous.  He pulled himself up and entered her again, still right on the edge.  She grabbed his ass and pulled him in deeper and he came with a low moan.  He collapsed against her, and she ran her fingers up and down his back deliciously, making every nerve stand on end.

"Wow," he whispered.

"I know," she answered.

He got up to dispose of the condom and she got under the blankets and held them out for him. There was no mention of her going back to her own room.  He got in bed, and she snuggled up against him with her chin on his chest.  He brushed her hair away and caressed it lightly.

"You are beautiful, Dylan."

"You are beautiful, too, Luba," he chuckled.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing.  You.  You are..."  He was speechless, so he just let his head drop.  She was kissing his chest as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up an hour before the alarm was to go off.  His first thought wasn't regret, exactly, but perhaps wariness.  He started to strategize.  He could take a shower, come out fully dressed and then very nicely escort her to her room.  Yes, if he wanted to be an asshole.  He could be honest and tell her it had been amazing, but maybe not the best idea the day before the short program and laugh and deflect and very nicely escort her to her room.  That was a good plan.  He looked over at her. She was mostly covered, but one breast was exposed.  She looked glorious in the morning light.  He covered her gently with a blanket, and she woke up and smiled at him.

 

**Luba**

She woke to him on one elbow above her.  She looked at him and her heart flipped over.  She touched his stubbly face and smiled, her insides already wanting him again.  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, and he rolled on top of her.  She kissed him and caressed the back of his head.  She felt him harden against her.  She wished it wasn't necessary for him to go get another condom, that he could just slide inside of her and they could rock slowly back and forth for hours.  But it was necessary.  She slipped out from under him and walked over to his bag, the box right on top, and she tore one off of the line and brought it back.  He smiled at her as she discarded the package and rolled it on him, and then lay back.  He was up on both elbows, looking at her in the light.  It was more magical this morning.  She could see every inch of him, especially his face, and she could look into his eyes as he pushed into her.

She had no idea if this was a one time affair or if it was the start of something.  She decided to treat it as if it would never happen again, to enjoy every moment.  He thrust into her, and she matched his rhythm with her tongue in his mouth. She pulled him as close as possible, as deep as possible and he moaned in appreciation.  He slipped a hand down and rubbed circles against her, and she lost control of her senses.  She came hard and gasped his name and bucked her hips so he went in even more deeply, and he came with his mouth pressed into her neck, crying out in pleasure.

They lay like that for a few minutes, and then he pulled out carefully.

"Good morning," she said with a smile.

"Good morning, Luba."  He tied off the condom and collapsed back in bed with a sigh.

"We have to skate today," he looked at her.

"I know.  I think it will be okay."

"It'll be fine.  I'm not sure..."

"If this was a good idea? I think it was a good idea. I think we needed it.  I needed it," she laughed.

"I did, too.  What the hell, it was...it was great, Luba."  He had one of her breasts in his hand, and it was still making her feel tingly.  She sat up and reached for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

"I have four messages from Bryce."

"I'm sure I do, too."

"We went to bed early, tired from travel." She said as she texted him that message.

"Showers and breakfast and shuttle," she said, getting out of bed.

"You could shower here.  I'll get your bag."

"Okay," she smiled. He pulled on his pants and a t-shirt from his bag.  She tossed him her key.  He was out of the room in a moment.  She flipped over and rolled herself into a little ball like a doodle bug.  She let out a quiet victory whoop in case the walls were thin and waved her hands in the air.  She wanted to dance, but she knew he would be back in a second.  She curled up again and hugged herself and then loped to the bathroom and wrapped herself in a towel as he was coming through the door with her bag. She grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom.

"I probably can't...I mean being thirty is rough." He laughed.

"That's okay, we just shower."  But it didn't end up being an issue after all, and by the end of the shower she'd had her third orgasm in less than twelve hours, which was getting close to a record. She also got him to come in her mouth down her throat, and she looked up at him triumphantly.  Dylan: conquered.

Then they scrambled.  They were texting the coaches separately, so devious, and arranging to meet them for breakfast. She dried her hair, thankful it was cooperative, and threw it up in a knot.  She attached her beautiful red flower to the side of her head, and applied her make-up while Dylan dried and styled his hair--a three minute affair.  Kyra had helped her find a shade of lipstick that complemented the new red dress perfectly, so that was easy.  She sprayed her hair, made sure all the costume pieces were packed, grabbed the skates, and they headed out the door.  He was going to take the first elevator down.  He pushed the button, glanced down the hall, and then pulled her against him and kissed her properly.  She scampered into the crevice he took her too last night before the door opened.

"Hey, Dylan!"

He was apparently the most popular person in Montreal.  She smiled and shook her head.  Her elevator wasn't far behind and she joined the crowd.

 

**Dylan**

He was waiting for her to come out of the changing room backstage.  The other girls, including Kirsten, were already meandering nervously backstage.  Kirsten was going through her pre-skate routine, and it was weird and disconcerting to be there with her, not about to skate with her.  He really wanted Luba to emerge, and she did, right on cue.  She did a little twirl in her pretty dress, and he could feel himself smile.  She walked into his arms and he kissed the top of her head chastely.  He saw Kirsten staring at them, and he let her go. 

They'd already had an earful from the coaches about not answering texts, and he could tell Bryce was suspicious.  They all gathered at the gate for the warmup, everyone bouncing nervously.  Luba, though was right next to him as steady as steel. They were called onto the ice and she stroked halfway across the rink confidently and then leaned into a beautiful spiral.  He heard his sister call down, _Go, Luba!_   He let her finish the spiral, and then took her hand to go through their warm-up routine.

 

**Luba**

They were at the boards for last minute instructions as the announcer started in.  They jumped the gun, not anticipating the English translation, and then went through their intro routine.  She breathed deeply to calm herself and then skated into place.  He put his hands on her for the opening and she laid hers on top, and they both took one more big breath.  The music started and her heart opened.

Of course she nailed the triple Sal.  She sang out loud as she gave him her hand, "For me!  And I'm feeling..." she landed that triple twist they just settled on at breakfast. "Good!" No tripping, just smoothness, she flew into the throw and landed, ha!  Death spiral, they were both low and into the ice.  It felt amazing, the best ever. He left a perfect spiral on the ice, and they skated into the lift.  The crowd yelled for them.

"Scent of the pine, you know how I feel!" She sang to him. He was smiling with his whole face, loving it all as much as she was.  They threw themselves into the spin and he called out the changes loudly.  She matched him like they were connected, like they had been since that first day.  He picked up his blade and they spun together, looking at each other.

She saw him dancing out of the corner of her eye.  He punched the air with more emphasis than she had ever seen.  Luba:  conquered.  They danced it out.  Shimmying and up and down from their knees.  He grabbed her into the end pose, and they looked out to the crowd.  Ha!

They embraced.  "Perfect," he whispered, and they skated back to the boards, arms wrapped around each other.  Lee and Bryce looked like proud parents.  They had a unabashed group hug and made it into the kiss and cry.

 

**Dylan and Luba**

 

She waved to Mama and Papa.  He said hi to all his friends back home.  66.64.  They repeated their four-way group hug.  They heard Kyra cheering loudly.  Luba clapped and squealed.  Dylan and Bryce clasped hands and bro-hugged.  Kirsten and Marinaro were taking the ice.  Dylan pulled Luba against him.  Bryce side-eyed them.  Dylan shrugged innocently.  The music started.

"Pop! Six! Squish! Cicero! Uh-oh!" Luba sang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ends the story I wanted to tell after I happened to click on their short program video from Challenge, mostly as a fluke. I've never been terribly interested in pairs, but there was something about this team that made me want to know their story. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for your comments. I appreciate every one of them.


	18. Chapter 18

**Part 3**

**Luba**

**December 2014 (2)**

 

Luba lay in the bed, well past midnight, wide awake.  Kyra was snoring softly in the other bed, her beautiful brown hair splayed on the pillow behind her.  Luba's mind would not shut down.

They had stayed at the arena for practice and then had made it back for a bland, inoffensive dinner with Julia and Kyra.  They ordered their good luck shots against Julia's protests and downed them.  Kyra had moved her things into Luba's room, and they had talked until Kyra couldn't hold her eyes open.

Luba was still excited about how well the short program had gone.  They had hit every element close to their potential.  She had played her character the whole time, not that it was a challenge.  Dylan had shown more energy toward the end of the program than he ever had in training. He really never dragged, but he had been especially on that day.  They were comfortably in the lead ahead of Mike and Kirsten, who were their only true competition here.  Their long program run-through had gone well...there wasn't anything to be worried about aside from the usual nerves of having to skate it tomorrow.

It wasn't the skating.  She was second guessing every decision she had made that night before.  Everything she had done had been wrong.  The over the top sexy outfit.  The over the top sexy underwear.  She had thrown herself at him.  Thinking about it now, she wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.  Everything about her was wrong.  It was so embarrassing.  He would probably look at her with pity. 

She liked him so much.  Just like she had her entire life, though, she had fucked the whole thing up. She flipped around in the bed and put a pillow over her head to block out all light and noise.  She replayed the whole night in her mind.  How had he looked at her?  She tried to remember.  He had laughed a lot.  Was he amused that she was so desperate?  She didn't think he had been with anyone since Sarah.  He had surely just been horny, and Luba was available and more than willing.  He was probably kicking himself for the whole thing. 

They had been fine together today.  He had seemed happy.  It hadn't been awkward, had it?  Maybe it had been.  Maybe she was just so excited and blinded by affection that she had missed how uncomfortable he was around her. 

Enough.  Enough.  She forced her brain to stop.  She mentally went through every pose in their yoga practice they did twice a week.  She breathed in and out.  She drifted off and dreamed of sitting at a table with Javier and Nam helping Nam with his Spanish homework.  Her phone rang out.

"Ugh, already?" Kyra said in a groggy voice.

"You can go back to sleep." Luba whispered.  She grabbed her bag and headed into the bathroom.  If Kyra wondered why it wasn't unpacked even though Luba had been there two nights, she hadn't said anything.  Luba turned on the water and tried to figure out how to get it the right temperature--the worst thing about hotels.  Finally just right, she stood under the spray and just let it cover her.  Morning had brought hope and perspective.  Dylan wasn't cruel.  If he wasn't interested in her, he would be kind about it; she just knew it.  Everything would be okay.  She tried the shampoo supplied by the hotel as it smelled wonderful.  One advantage of her ridiculous hair was that it pretty much behaved its own way no matter what she put in it.  She shaved again although it wasn't really necessary.  She wrapped up in the big, fluffy towel and dried off the mirror to get a glance at herself.  Okay.  She put on one of her nicer practice outfits and brought her hair and make-up stuff back in the room.

Kyra was sitting up in bed with her iPad.

"You were an unqualified success.  Everyone is dead."

"What?" Luba laughed.

"The internet loved the short and are thrilled you guys are ahead of Kirsten."

"Thank you, internet."

"The internet knows what's up.  Except when it doesn't.  Then it's crap."

"Okay." Luba tossed the towel that had been wrapped around her head at Kyra, who caught it with a flourish.  Luba worked some mousse into her hair and and got out the round brush and dryer.  She had some sparkly star clips that matched the blue and silver dress for the side of her knot today.  It only took a few moments to get her hair dry enough to style.

"I'm going to get a shower, and then can I do your make-up?"

"Of course," Luba answered with a pin in her mouth.  Kyra took her stuff into the bathroom and closed the door.  Luba sprayed her hair and then carefully added the clips to the side of her head.  She looked at it from every angle.  Okay.  She took a selfie in the mirror.  Okay.  She checked her armpits to make sure she had shaved sufficiently.  She was in the process of this when there was a knock at the door.  She threw her Canada jacket on again before she let him in.

He had a tray with three coffees.

"Hey.  Morning." He said pleasantly as he strode in.

"Good morning," _try to keep it casual_ , she implored herself.

He handed her a coffee.

"Thanks," she said and took a delicious sip.

He quietly took her into his arms and held her still, kissing the top of her head and rocking her slightly.  She let her face rest against his chest and closed her eyes.  He smelled of shower and the shampoo he had used, too.  The water in the bathroom shut off, and they separated.  Luba sat in front of the mirror again, and Dylan sat on Kyra's bed. A few moments later, Kyra came out of the bathroom.

"Really? It would be nice to be able to get dressed in my room," she play-huffed at Dylan.

"Good morning to you, too.  I brought you some coffee."

"Thanks!" She shoved him on the arm as she got the clothes out of her suitcase, and he acted like he was going to grab her towel.

"Perv."

"As if anyone wanted to see that anyway," he teased her back.

Make-up and hair complete, all necessities packed, they headed down for a quick breakfast and caught the shuttle. Senior pairs was the first event, and then they would have some time to see Montreal.  Bryce seemed the most nervous of all of them.  Luba was calm up until moments before the music started.  Then the performance took over.  She messed up the triple Sal, and Dylan brought the final lift down too early, but the rest went better than it had in Poland.  They stuck with the double twist, and the throws were flawless.  Dylan was mad at himself about the lift, but both of them felt pretty good.  The scores were generous, and held for the competition.  They won.  The medal ceremony was a bit tense.  Kirsten smiled, but Luba could tell she was miserable.  Luba was practically incoherent with fatigue. She stumbled her way through an interview exclaiming that she just wanted a few days off.  Dylan put his arm around her and squeezed her neck gently. 

"You seem exhausted," he said quietly after the camera had gone.

"I am.  I want to see the city, though."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, don't you?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to."

"I couldn't sleep last night--too excited, too much..." she gestured with her hands around her head.  "I just want to see the city, eat, and then sleep for hours."

Dylan got her a large coffee, and the group was off.  Julia took them to an old restaurant with formal waiters and very nice linen.  Luba willed herself to stay awake and eat the beautiful food, but she was losing.  Dylan scooted his chair next to her so she could lean over.

"Time to go," he informed the group. "Kyra, take her home and put her to bed."  Luba ended up falling asleep on Kyra's bed with her practice clothes and make-up still on.  Kyra had an early flight, so they were up at five-thirty packing. 

"I'll be home for holidays in a few weeks," Kyra told her as she was about to leave.

"I can't wait," the young women hugged.  Luba changed into pajamas and went back to sleep.  A text woke her up at nine.

 **Dylan** :  What time do you want to leave?

 **Luba** :  Quick shower, breakfast...I'm already packed.

 **Dylan** :  Meet in twenty minutes?

 **Luba** :  Great.

She scooted into the shower.  They had the whole drive home today.  It was their first chance to be alone and actually talk.  She was pretty much just as nervous as she had been before the skating.  She put on jeans and a sweater and put her hair in a high ponytail.  She looked about fourteen.  She gave herself a disgusted look in the mirror and tried to help her cause with some make-up.  It still wasn't great when she gathered her bags and met him by the elevator.

They ate breakfast in the hotel restaurant.  She drank her coffee and picked at her oatmeal and fruit.

"Luba, you need to eat," Dylan had finished his eggs and toast and was starting in on a muffin.

"I eat as much as I can.  Not really hungry."

"You hardly ate anything last night.  You said you slept well?"

"I'm fine.  I can't force myself to eat more than I can."

"I know.  Sorry."

"I'm ready for home." She finished the coffee and gathered her stuff.

"Yeah, me, too.  If we leave now we can avoid the worst of the traffic."  He settled the bills and retrieved the car. It seemed much longer than two and a half days ago since they'd been in it.  Luba always enjoyed the happy luggage of the return on a successful trip.  The Montreal shot glasses were tucked in with the medals that matched her blue long program dress, all inside the cup of their new trophy.  She put on her sunglasses against the winter morning glare and assumed her seat in the SUV.  He plugged in music immediately.

She looked at the sites carefully for the last time this trip, trying to preserve the memories. Soon he was pulling onto the highway for home.  They rode quietly for about half an hour.  Finally, he turned the music down.

"So what do you think?" He asked her. 

She had no idea how to answer, so she just looked at him.

"Come on, Luba.  Elephant in the room."

"Elephant?"

 "What we're thinking about but not talking about," he explained. 

 "No.  What do _you_ think?" She was wary of saying the wrong thing. He had the power, and she didn't want to give him more.

He sighed heavily.  "I think we may have stepped in it."

"Stepped in...?"

He laughed.  "Okay it's going to sound really, really bad.  You know what, just forget I said that.  I'm afraid, Luba, that we made a mistake the other night.  I loved it; it was great--you are amazing, but I'm afraid we complicated things too much."

She was quiet.  She knew this was coming, yet the words still stung.  She felt anger and sadness. 

"I don't see what's so complicated about having sex at figure skating competition.  It's really not that complicated at all." And Dylan with the economy box of condoms in his bag surely knew exactly what she meant.

"Obviously, if it was just sex it wouldn't be." He had a slight edge to his voice.  It made her stomach start to flip.

"What is going to be so bad about it?" Luba said quietly.

"It's just...it's just not ideal, I guess.  It makes everything more difficult."

"It makes some things easier."

He reached over and put his hand on her knee.  "Luba..."

"No, why is so not ideal?"

"You live with my parents," he laughed.  "And I live with the person who is convinced it's a bad idea--and for good reason--Bryce has horror stories about..."

"About what?"

"About dating your partner."

"Should we change our life, or what we want because of Jessica and Bryce?  Are they only example of partners who were together?"  She wished she could walk the words back.  For all she knew he was letting her down easily.

"No," he laughed.  "Good job.  I'm taking notes for my eventual speech to Bryce."

She smiled and leaned over in her seat to loop her arm in his and rest her head on his shoulder. 

"It's nobody's business anyway, yes?  I didn't say anything to Kyra.  I'm not..."

"Luba," he kissed her head.  "I'm not ashamed of anything.  It's just...probably good to be discrete at this point."

"Not a secret, just..."

"Yeah.  Not a secret, just not advertised."

It exceeded her expectations by a lot.  She took the victory, sat up, and turned to face him.  "Nationals are six weeks!  We don't have time to worry about this anyway."

"Did you see Kirsten's face?  She is going to train everyday with the picture in her mind of us beating them. They are going to be ferocious...she'll do whatever it takes."  He sounded relieved at the change of subject.

"And we will."

"Okay."

They chatted the rest of the way about Montreal and getting back into training.  He pulled up to the house at four-thirty.  Norman was already home and came out to help with the bags and to congratulate them on the victory.

"Dylan, stay for dinner?" Norman asked him after and earnest father-son hug with lots of back slapping.

"I've got to hit the gym," he side-hugged Luba and got back into the car.

 

They started the next morning focusing on lifts and the lift transitions.  They had lost too many GOEs on what should be their best chance to earn points.  They ran the last thirty seconds of the long program again and again until they could get in and out of the lift and hit the end pose perfectly.  Lee wouldn't let her talk about the jumps.  He worked with her by herself for half an hour a day.  She wasn't allowed to give commentary about anything.  He was helping her try to have a clear mind and not have all of the negative self-talk that plagued her.  She was trying.

She helped Julia make dinner in the evening.  Luba had a subject she needed to broach, and on the third night back, she finally got up the nerve.  She had run out of birth control pills in late August.  Since then her period had been a nightmare.  She now had extra motivation to get back on the pill.

"I need a...exam. Medical exam.  I won't...can't have insurance until I'm legal resident."

Julia turned to face her.  "You need an annual, Luba?  You need a gynecological exam?"

"Yes," Luba hoped that no other questions were following.

"That's no problem.  You could have it here in my office.  I could do it, but you might be more comfortable with Kathy?" 

Kathy was Julia's partner in the practice.  She was over many nights for classes.  Luba liked her a lot.

"That would be wonderful--is there a fee?"

"Of course not!  I'll text her; she can probably do it tomorrow."

Kathy was waiting for her the next afternoon when Luba got home from the rink.  There were no forms to fill out; Kathy just asked question after question about her health and history.  When she got on the scale, Luba saw that she had lost four pounds since the last time she had seen the nutritionist.  Kathy did some calculations and made a worried face.

"You are borderline for a BMI that is too low.  I don't put a tremendous amount of stock in that, but with some of your history, it's a concern.  I'm worried that you will start seeing some troubling effects if you get any smaller."

"I've had two competitions in two weeks, with one trip to Europe.  It's just been really crazy."

"I've known Julia forever--I understand about the stresses of competitive skating," Kathy said kindly.  "But you have to manage this, okay?  What do you think is going on?"

Luba sighed and fought back tears.  She knew she was losing too much, but it was hard to hear. 

"I'm starving a lot of times when it's not time to eat, and then when it is time to eat, I'm not so hungry anymore."

"Luba, anytime you are hungry, it's time to eat, okay?  Middle of the night, go in and have a bowl of cereal at least.  Tell Dylan that you may need to take a break in training for snacks.  It's the holidays--indulge.  Put butter on your vegetables.  Eat dessert.  I don't this is a relapse yet...but we need to be really careful."

"Okay," Luba tried to remain composed.

"Okay.  Lecture over.  More embarrassing questions?"

Luba laughed and nodded.

"Great!  Are you currently sexually active?"

Verb tenses.  Ugh.  Currently?  Luba gave her a confused look.

"Have you had sex in the last six weeks?"

"Yes."

"Did you use any kind of birth control?"

"Yes, condoms."

"Good. Pain or bleeding during or after intercourse?"

"No."

"Great.  Alright, let's get to the exam."

Luba made it through the indignity--Kathy was very kind.  After it was over, Luba sat up and tried to cover herself as much as possible with the gown.  Kathy was typing furiously on her tablet.

"And you want a prescription for oral contraceptives?"

Luba wished she had her phone handy and looked in the direction of her pile of clothes on a chair in the corner.

"Birth control pills," Kathy clarified.

"Yes."  She told Kathy about the ones she had been on before, and Kathy wrote the prescription and gave her a three month sample.

"I hope this goes without saying, but I won't discuss any of this with Julia.  I'll have possession of your file, and she would only see it in the event of an emergency.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, thank you."

"No problem, Luba.  And if you ever need to talk about any of this, or if you have side-effects with the pills, call me immediately, okay?"

"Yes, thank you." 

She wondered if she would look back on this as a completely unnecessary exercise, but at least she could get her period under control.  Julia asked her nothing about it, and she was grateful for that.  After dinner she settled into her room and watched the short program from Challenge for the twentieth time.  She loved everything about it.  She went back and watched the triple Sal again and again and again, but her favorite part was Dylan's fist in the air on the choreography after the spins.  She was writing an email to send to Anna with the video when her phone sounded.

 **Dylan** :  What are you doing?

 **Luba** :  Watching the short.

 **Dylan** :  Me, too. Favorite part?

 **Luba** :  Footwork transition.

 **Dylan** :  Really?  Your face after the throw...

 **Luba** :  I look silly but happy.

 **Dylan** :  Happy the whole time--me, too.  Going to bed...good night.

 **Luba** :  Good night.  See you tomorrow.

She added a little heart against her better judgement. He sent her back a kiss.


	19. Chapter 19

**Dylan**

**December 2014**

 

They had been back at training after Challenge for a week.  There was a tense vibe throughout the Cricket Club because of the holiday shows, upcoming Nationals, and the end of the year.  He was doing his best to avoid the worst of it.  Luba's class was skating an extravagant number at one of the shows, but she was more excited than stressed about it.  She had wrangled Kyra into doing elaborate make-up, and Luba had designed costumes that were very loud and very Russian.  Seeing the Canadian suburban moms scrambling to put the looks together was amusing.

They were heading back to his parents' house for an interview with an online skating show.  They had thought about doing it at the Cricket or at Bryce's, but his parents had the best equipment and the nicest background sets, so to speak.

He had done an interview with Kirsten for the same show.  Kirsten had met Jenny from the show at a competition at Salt Lake City; they'd had a manicure at the same time or something.  Jenny had been a high level singles skater for the U.S. ten years or so ago.  The interview had been one of the most in-depth ones he had ever participated in, and he had enjoyed the process.  He had gone back recently to re-watch and see if he could detect some foreshadowing on Kirsten's part of the great dumping, and he did find a few hints.  It also reminded him of the tension between him and Kirsten a lot of the time, and that he hadn't really known her as well as he had thought.

His partnership with Luba was far from perfect. Her psychologically based jump issues kept him awake many nights.  They had some glaring aesthetic differences that were going to come to a head at some point.  But he could tell her anything.  She trusted him implicitly.  And she liked him a whole lot--it was all over her.  She told him all the time how much she appreciated him.  He was a simple creature; it was all he really needed.

Luba was talking fast and loudly in the seat next to him. She wanted to know everything about this show they were going to be on; she was bound to be disappointed, as it wasn't exactly Oprah. 

They both knew what was certain to happen after the interview was done. Luba had reminded him that it was Norman's gym night and that Julia would be at the hospital until after dinner time.  So there was that energy, too.  They hadn't even kissed since that night.  They hadn't really been alone or in a situation in which kissing would be natural.  He was not a public affection guy anyway, and this whole thing made him more self-conscious than he usually was.  Today, though, they would have a whole empty house and a nice stretch of time.  It was obvious that she wanted it as much as he did, which made him want it all the more.  He really, _really_ wanted to get through with this interview.

They parked and came in through the garage.  The study where they would sit in front of the computer had been thoroughly cleaned, and Julia or Luba had placed some fresh flowers in the background.

"You and Mom have been busy," he commented appreciatively. 

"This house always looks beautiful.  Julia helped me with the flowers."

He logged on to the computer and texted Dave, the other host of the show that they were ready.  They looked at themselves on the webcam--not bad.  Dave and Jenny connected in.  They were loud, and they talked very fast.  Dylan hoped Luba could keep up.  They started with Dylan and obviously wanted him to tell everything about his breakup with Kirsten.  He was going to have to be very careful about what he said.  They were baiting him to trash her.

They turned to Luba, and Dave made it very clear that he thought she was much better than Dylan.  Well, fine.  Luba as gay icon once again.  This was a really, really good thing, he knew.  He'd always resented this attitude that the North American school was so aesthetically inferior to the Russian style in particular.  He now knew better than ever that it was a flawed premise anyway.  The Moscow style was different from the St. Petersberg style, and the same was true for teams here.  He tried not to let his irritation show, and to keep in mind that it was a very good thing that people who never gave him a second look would now because of their love for her.

Luba really came alive when they discussed the programs.  She held nothing back and chatted to them like they were her close friends, like she did all of the people she met.  It was really charming.  Dave tried to get them to say which of their partners they liked the most, a trap Dylan was NOT going to fall into. But Luba was all _Dylan, Dylan, Dylan, of course!_ It was incredibly flattering and made him want to fall into the trap, but he didn't.

They had a little George and Gracie thing going where she would misunderstand a question or answer and then correct him, which was cracking him up.  She also matched his movements:  when he sat forward, she followed, when he sat back, she sat back, etc. Their arms were lightly touching the whole time, and he was aware of every molecule of contact.  The slow heat in him since they left the rink was starting to bubble over.  The forty minutes flew by, and it was time to wrap it up very quickly.  There were mutual thank yous, and then they signed off.  Dylan shut the computer down, slightly paranoid that the webcam wasn't turned off unless he did.  She was standing right behind him with her body pressed against his.

As soon as it was off without question, Dylan turned kissed her with a week's worth of pent up energy.  She put her arms around his neck and stood on her toes.  He put his hands under her ass and hoisted her up.  She pressed herself into his torso and squeezed him tightly, like they had been reunited after a long journey.  Her face was now at his neck, and she kissed him gently just below his ear.  He tightened his own grip on her.  It was comforting and...passionate.  He was too much in his own head and tried to just let it all happen.  He kissed her again on the mouth.

"Should we...?" He asked her.

"My room," she answered, and led the way. 

She closed the door behind her and removed her sweater in one motion.  She nudged him onto the bed on his back and straddled him, grinding against him.  This was going to be over very quickly if she continued.  He placed his hands on her hips and then moved them up her back, drawing her down to him.  He snapped the clasp of her bra and took it off down her arms slowly, stopping at looking at her above him, her eyes filled with desire for him.  He wrapped her tightly and flipped them over, so he was hovering above her.  She started undoing his buttons and kissing his chest.  He was pushed up on his elbows, but he dropped down to free a hand.  He stroked the side of her face and she kissed him tenderly.

Her hands were at his waist, unbuckling and unbuttoning.  He sat up and took off his pants, keeping them close to the bed for the condom in his pocket.  He undid her jeans and slid them down to reveal very small pink and white polka-dotted underwear with a tiny bow at the center.  He kissed her little belly right above the bow and slid the panties down.  She lifted her hips slightly to help him, and he gently placed a hand on her, teasing her just a little, and then moved his fingers in and around making her moan from the back of her throat.  She reached into his shorts and put one hand around his hard cock while she shoved the underwear down with the other.  He laughed at her impatience, and helped her out by kicking them off.

She reached up and flipped over slightly toward her bedside table, showing off her little round ass.  He was immediately preoccupied with it and didn't notice her grabbing a condom from her drawer.  Then she turned back, and sadly, the ass went away and she was tearing the package.  Clever girl, he thought.

She rolled it on him with that naughty look he remembered from their night in Montreal.  She had taken charge at this point and he had no desire to stop her.  She placed him on his back and climbed on again, lowering herself right onto his cock.  He moaned this time as she sat up straight and let him fill her all the way in, before rocking up and down at an angle so that her small perfect tits were dangling in his face.  He covered them first with his hands and then with his mouth, sucking them and making her grind herself against him in pleasure.

She was loud and uninhibited in the empty house, and he thought for a moment that he really, really hoped his dad wouldn't skip the gym today, but then he was back with her, matching her sounds and letting her ravish him. He put his hands on her ass and guided her up and down, watching her face and her breasts now above him.  He could feel himself building quickly towards his orgasm, so he put a hand against her matched her rhythm as she lost control and came with a long, loud moan.  He quickly joined her and pressed her body into his so he could feel every inch of her as he came.

She was laughing and panting slightly as they disentangled and she draped herself over him with a huge smile as he removed the condom and tied it.

"Dylan.  That was..." She made a gurgly, shuddery noise.

"It really was," he laughed.

She was playing with one of his nipples, and every nerve in his body was still on alert.  He peeked into the drawer.

"How many do you have?"

"Not as many as you!" She smacked his chest.  "I bought a _small_ box to have here the other day. Julia is very respectful of privacy," she laughed.

"Yes, I know.  I'm sure I have a stash in my room, too, although they're probably expired.  And this is very much like high school, lying here hoping not to hear anyone coming home."

"High school!  How many girls did you have in bed in high school?" Her voice was incredulous.

"One girl.  Several times," he explained.  Okay, a couple girls.

"I have birth control pills now, but I haven't started them yet."

That was interesting.  He felt his eyebrows go up and then tried to hide it by being as casual as possible.

"Did you get them from my mom?" He asked in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

"From Kathy."

That was almost as bad. 

"Well, that's good."  And it was.  Condoms were a pain in the ass.

"Will help with period as well."

"That's really good," he told her.  He was idly stroking her pubic hair, and she was purring very softly.

"I can shave if you want me to," she said.

She did have more hair than the women he had been with in the last few years, but he liked it.  It was well-groomed and kind of hot.

"Please don't."

She laughed.  "I like to have a little so I don't look so young," she explained, and he felt guilty about all the times he thought she _did_ look very young.  It was the first time he knew that she was self-conscious about it.  He resolved to comment on her sexiness often from now on.

"I wish we could just stay here," she said with a bit of sadness in her voice.

"I do, too."

"Krav Maga?"

"Yep.  In a little over an hour, so I have to get up."  He made no moves.

"Quick shower then," she said and grabbed his hand.  It was too soon for a second round, but he let her wash him from head to toe, and he wished she would come with him and spend the night in town.  He didn't say it, though.  Too soon to get into the whole thing with Bryce, and it made him sad and annoyed that he couldn't just allow himself to be happy.  They couldn't lose focus, though.  They had to be strong for the Nationals.  He took her into his arms before the water ran cold and kissed her longingly.  She broke from their embrace and handed him a towel.  He wrapped it around him and walked upstairs for some clean clothes.  When he returned she was bundled up in several layers of workout gear. 

"I'm going to the park for a run," she told him.

There wasn't snow currently on the ground, but it was freezing outside.

"Are you sure?"

"Not a long one.  I just have energy I want to use."

"Come with me, and we'll get out the energy," he pleaded in spite of his earlier resolution.

"Not yet," she said, and started tying on her trainers.

She walked him to the car and hugged him hard before he got in.  He kissed her a last time, not knowing when they'd be able to escape together again.  He saw her stretching her leg behind her head as he drove off.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Luba**

**Chanukah 2014**

 

They took off in the late afternoon for home.  Bryce and Lee had offered a whole day off tomorrow for Dylan, but the rink shut down on Christmas Eve and Day anyway, and Dylan told them he would take his holiday then.  Tonight was the big, family dinner.  It was Luba's first Chanukah experience, but Julia had told her all the details. That morning Luba had packed her red dress and high black shoes. They had changed at the club.  Dylan was dressed impeccably as usual, and it felt like they were going to a family party as a couple, at least to Luba.

Luba had been embroidering Dylan's gift for weeks.  It was their names, their team name, in Cyrillic letters across a cloth.  She had added a little Russian flag and a maple leaf in her design.  Norman had taken her to get it framed, and she thought it was beautiful.  She couldn't wait to give it to him.

Mama and Papa had helped her with other gifts:  a lace table cloth for Julia and a decanter for Norman.  She found Kyra an English translation of Luba's favorite Russian book and also some new lipstick shades to thank her for her help with the skating show.  Dylan's other sister, Elena, was home from school.  She looked just like Kyra but was older and quieter. Luba had no idea what to get for her, but Kyra had helped her pick out some bath stuff.

The show had been the night before, and Luba felt it had been a triumph.   She had found a techno version of of the Russian suite from the Nutcracker.  The skaters had flown around the ice in their pink and orange costumes.  The rest of the show had been a bit of a snooze in Luba's opinion.  She had tried to get Dylan to choreograph a Chanukah number, had even offered to help him, but he had just laughed at her.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"There must be music?"

"The world doesn't need another Jewish folk ice dance, trust me on this one."

"You could have skaters as candles on the menorah..." She suggested, picturing boys in bright blue and silver.

"Oh god, no."

Okay, then.  She and Dylan often had different ideas about what was an amazing ice program.  She knew he thought her number was not quite right somehow, but it had been wonderful. 

The traffic was heavy out to the suburbs, and the sky was black already at not even five.  She usually loved this time of year, but the stress of training for Nationals amidst the holidays was getting to her.  She longed for quiet January and two and a half weeks of focus before they had to compete again.  At least Kyra was home although they hadn't had a chance to really talk yet.  Luba had been late every night this week, and Kyra had been catching up with local friends.  They planned to spend a whole day together that weekend, though, and Luba couldn't wait. 

"Have you had time to talk to Elena?" Dylan asked her.

"Not much this week."

"No, I guess not. You'll like her."

"She never skate?"

"We all skated, but she didn't take to it like Kyra did.  She's the smartest, though, and always the best student.  She's getting a degree in...English?"

"She's getting a PhD in French Literature," Luba helped him out.  "How do you not know that?"

"It's all Greek..." Dylan laughed and Luba rolled her eyes with a smile.

"I got her bubble bath for Chanukah, I hope she doesn't think I'm ridiculous."

"Don't worry about that.  Gifts are not at all a big deal.  Speaking of that, I got you something, but I don't know if I should give it to you tonight or on Christmas."

"Julia says we are just doing food gifts for Christmas.  Do you even do Christmas?"

Dylan laughed.  "Not really, but I'm sure Mom has something planned for this year. We should call it Lubamas."

Luba smacked him in the arm, "Disrespectful!"

"Yes, because you're so religious."

"I'm religious.  Not that religious, but..."

"Right."

"Religious..., but..." Luba struggled to express herself in English.

"Culturally religious?" Dylan helped her.

"Yes and no...Mama and Papa grew up when religion was not a part of life in Soviet Union, so they find it...important, and I do, too.  But as an actual belief...it's more of a concept for me."

"That's the way we are, too, for the most part.  Culturally Jewish.  Sometimes politically Jewish, but I don't actually pray except for holidays."

"I pray before jumps."

Dylan laughed.  "You swear before jumps."

"I pray and swear."

There were several extra cars around the house, and they had to park up the street.  It was freezing, and Dylan wrapped himself around her for the walk.  She nestled her head in his arm affectionately. Kyra must have been looking for them out the window because she bounded out the house and then stopped at the site of them enveloped into each other.  Her mouth popped open and then closed.  Luba ran to meet her, and Kyra grabbed her.

"We have lots to talk about?" Kyra whispered in her ear.  Luba grinned broadly.

"Okay," Luba answered.

"Okay," Kyra laughed and guided her inside.

The house smelled wonderful, and Luba realized she was starving.  There was extended family and friends milling about, including Julia's partner Kathy and her husband. There were lots of greetings and introductions, and Luba struggled to put everyone in context.  Many of the people hadn't seen Dylan for a while, and there were congratulations for his Olympic medal and consolations over the end of his partnership.  A cousin asked him where Sarah was and received a smack on the back of the head by his mother.

They prayed over the menorah and sat down to dinner.  There was roast beef and latkes and lots of wine, which Luba and Dylan abstained from rather ruefully. The latkes were as good as the potato pancakes Mama made, and Luba ate until she was stuffed.  She had no room for dessert but nibbled at her jelly doughnut anyway.  After the guests left, the family gathered in the living room to exchange presents.  Dylan loved his embroidery and knew what it said immediately without need of translation.  He put his arm around Luba, and handed her a small package.  She unwrapped it and peered into the box to find a gold necklace with an _L_ charm written in script.  It was lovely and perfect, and she tried not to cry.  
  


She wanted to kiss him after he fastened the clasp around her neck, but she didn't.  Her impending conversation with Kyra meant that the secret was about to be out, but she didn't want to make a spectacle.  She hugged him instead and whispered, "I love it, thank you," against his chest.

Dylan had been right--the gifts were mostly little trinkets, and everyone seemed amused with what they got. They were missing Sasha, who had no leave until next month, and there were lots of stories of him.  Dylan left to go back to the city.  They were training at the regular time the next day, but for the first time since Luba could remember, he was not anxious to leave the house.  Julia implored him to stay, but he wanted to sleep longer in the morning.  Kyra and Elena would drive Luba in and then stay in the city for the day.

Luba longed to spend the whole night in bed with him, cuddled up after and whispering about the party.  She gave him a sad smile from across the room, and he paused for a moment before heading out the door.

Norman had to be at the hospital at the crack of dawn, so he turned in.  The women cleaned the kitchen quickly and then opened another bottle of wine.  Luba was yawning already, and Kyra kissed her mother goodnight, and led Luba  upstairs with Elena on their heels.  Luba collapsed on the soft rug.

"Don't even think about falling asleep!" Kyra admonished her.  "Spill, woman!"

"What?" Elena had plopped on Kyra's bed and was staring at her phone.

"Luba and Dylan," Kyra informed her.  "What is going on?" She directed at Luba.  Elena put down the phone.

"Is there something going on?" Elena was suddenly quite interested.

"Judging by how they walked up the drive practically on top of each other, I say yes," Kyra said dryly.

"It was cold!" Luba had curled up in a ball on the rug and covered her face in embarrassment. 

"I knew there was something between you two," Elena said.  "Kyra told me I was crazy."

"That was before," Kyra protested. "Luba!" Kyra directed at her.

"You already knew I liked him," Luba protested.

"So, what happened?"

"Challenge," Luba said.

"I was in your room for Challenge!"

"Not the first night."

"Oh my god--you didn't?  On my bed?"

"For fuck's sake, Kyra," Elena rolled her eyes.  "That's not really the point."

"Not on your bed.  Not in our room," Luba offered.

"So...did you make a move?  Tell me everything!" Kyra got on the rug right next to Luba.

"Please don't," Elena added.

"Okay, not everything," Kyra agreed.  "But the lead-up, how did you get there, you know?"

"Oh, good lord, Kyra," Elena took off her fancy shoes and was rubbing her feet.

"Shut up!  You don't understand, this has been a whole thing," Kyra told her sister.

"Oh, it's not that hard to understand."

"Luba, talk!"

"The first night.  We were going to dinner.  I wore the Halloween sweater," Luba told Kyra.

"Good choice!"

"We talked, and it was more like a date than we had been.  He was looking at me different, and then..." Luba smiled.

"So, not a one time thing?" Elena asked her.

"Not a one time, no, but I don't think I'm his girlfriend, really.  Not yet."

"He really likes you," Elena said.  "I could tell just from the videos and what Kyra said, and then tonight."

"Yeah, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you tonight.  Oh, I'm so happy!" Kyra hugged Luba.

Luba fingered her new necklace and smiled.  "We don't...It's not known at the club or gym or..." she gestured with her hands.  "Or Lee and Bryce."

"Neither one of them should say a word," Elena said.  "But Mom and Dad?"

"They have no idea," Kyra said.  "Or at least Mom doesn't."

"Would they be happy?" Luba had been worried about this.

Kyra didn't say anything. 

Elena started carefully, "They just want you guys to be happy and for this to work out, the partnership, I mean.  They've been through a lot this year. The Olympics were this huge dream come true, and then Towers pulled her shit, and Mom was devastated.  Did Dylan tell you that one of Towers's friends said some nasty thing on Facebook..."

"No!" Luba was outraged on Julia's behalf.

"Yeah, so it's been hard for them.  You are wonderful, and this couldn't have worked out better, but we were all, like, skeptical about him and this Russian girl we didn't know."

"Elena!" Kyra said in an outraged tone.

"No, I know, it's okay.  It was a HUGE risk.  I think now...I can't believe he did it.  There are so many others in America he could have been with.  Every time I think about it..." Luba wrapped her arms around her knees to indicate chills. Kyra hugged her and shot a look at Elena.

"Luba, everyone loves you, you know that," Elena said.  "I'm just saying...  It's just that Mom and Dad are emotionally invested, just like we all are.  So, yeah, they might be a bit wary if they knew you were falling into a couple thing."

Luba's heart fell.  She had suspected this before Elena had mentioned it.  Julia had never even hinted that romance was even a possibility between Luba and Dylan.  She was still sad about Sarah.  Luba sensed that Julia saw her as a daughter and another sister for Dylan.

"It may be nothing anyway," she told the sisters.

"Eh, just have fun.  We shouldn't take any of this so seriously.  Lighten up, it's just skating," Elena laughed.

But it wasn't just skating.  Just skating didn't exist anymore for Luba.  Eight months ago, she was easing into just skating, but now it was truly her whole life.  Skating and Dylan and the family and the Cricket were everything to her at the moment.  Her life in Russia was still there, but she was thinking of it as her past.  The stress bubbled up in a massive wave, and tears filled her eyes.  She brushed them away dismissively and tried to smile.

"Ugh, Elena," Kyra said with disgust and held on to Luba.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean...God, I'm sorry.  Believe me, I know how serious it all is.  I should just shut up."

"Right?" Kyra said.

"It's okay. I know it must seem...ridiculous," Luba told her.

"It doesn't, really, Luba.  It just causes a lot of stress around here and for us, and it has for years.  I'll be trying to prepare for class, and all I can think of is getting that short program score in the seventies, and improving that twist--this was back in the Kirsten days--and then I'm yelling at myself for putting in so much emotion over something I can't control and in the vast scheme of life..." Elena shut up.

"But you love Dylan, and it's his life," Luba told her.

"I know. But I envy my friends whose siblings are just in law school."

"Whatever.  I love it...I think it's very exciting," Kyra said.

"It is exciting," Elena agreed.

"I have to go to bed," Luba got up from the rug.  She wished she and Kyra had just danced to music and not talked.

"Goodnight, Luba.  I'm really happy for you," Kyra tried to do some repair.

"It's all fine." She waved and walked down to her room.  She left her dress on the chair and threw on sweat pants and a t-shirt for bed. She wanted to text Dylan and cry, but she sent her usual message and then tried to go to sleep.

 **Luba** :  Good night!!!! :) :P <3;

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Dylan**

**Christmas 2014**

 

It was December twenty-third, and Bryce was on his way to his parents' house for the holiday.  The Cricket would be open tomorrow until noon.  Dylan and Luba decided to skate without coaches for the morning and then head home for Christmas Eve dinner.  His mother had done research, interviewed Luba, and was trying a traditional Russian Christmas feast.  Luba was thrilled, of course, and he and his siblings were going to try to have a good attitude about the whole thing.  Elena had been texting him a lot.

 **Elena** :  We're not going to church, right?

 **Dylan** :  No, the Orthodox Christmas isn't until the first week of January. 

 **Elena** :  Wait, so it's not even her Christmas?

 **Dylan** :  Not really, but do you want to do this in January?

 **Elena** : Mom got a tree.

 **Dylan** :  Luba told me.  She thinks it's beautiful.

 **Elena** :  Why couldn't we have had one when I was 8 and wanted one?

 **Dylan** :  Just enjoy this one.  Pretend you are 8.

 **Elena** :  I'll get right on that. 

He had taken Luba to the liquor store so she could buy them all vodka.  Her parents had sent caviar and Russian Chocolate, and Luba had embroidered an ornament with each of their names on it.  He figured they would probably have a tree to put them on as long as she was in their lives. 

He had done the Christmas thing every year at the different rinks and gyms.  He was used to being the only Jew in the room after Kyra had to retire, but it had never followed him home.  They had always done traditional Jewish Christmas at the movies and then out for Chinese, and they were still planning this on the twenty-fifth.  Luba was looking forward to that as well.

The gym was deserted that night, so they ran a couple miles on the indoor track, did some perfunctory stretch and strength, and headed back to the condo.  His dad had the next two days off, and Luba had told them she would just stay in town so he wouldn't have to drive her in the next morning.  He hoped his parents were beginning to get the hint without him having to talk to them about his relationship status.  Luba had been upset for days after Chanukah and Elena, and he didn't want a repeat scene with Norman.  Luba adored his father, and Dylan didn't feel like she was ready for her first Norman lecture, although as she became more and more a part of the family, it was inevitable.

He had bought steaks for tonight and vegetables to steam.  He had bought a pretty Christmas cake, though he felt quite out of his depth on this one.  Luba had no idea that he had planned a little celebration for the two of them, and he was looking forward to seeing her face when she came in and saw the set table.

Bryce and he had a _don't ask, don't tell_ type truce going at the moment.  Dylan had never brought Luba over when Bryce was home--he had learned Bryce's schedule and knew when they needed to be heading to the gym before their coach returned home on afternoons they stopped by for a few stolen moments between training.  Dylan knew Bryce suspected, though.  There was much more physical contact between Dylan and Luba, and they were together more at the club than they had been before.  Bryce had asked him pointedly a few times about being set up with Rachel's friends, and he had always declined politely with no explanation.  It was not the most comfortable place to be in with one's best friend, and he kept meaning to make himself have the conversation.

They parked in front of the condo, and Luba took his hand on the walk to the door.  She was just barely shaking, and she seemed nervous and excited about their night alone, finally. It was like being a teenager, which he realized wasn't that far off for her, and having to grab moments here and there.  The prospect of being able to spend a stretch of time together was something he didn't take for granted in their current situation.   He clicked on the lights, and she saw the table.

"Merry Christmas," he told her.

"Merry Christmas, Dylan.  s Roždestvóm. Is this for us?"

"It is."

She smiled and put her arms around him. "I love it.  Thank you."

"You haven't seen the food yet," he laughed.

"I'm sure it is wonderful.  Shower first, and then I help you with the food?"

"I can't argue with that." 

She had a bag that she dragged around from the club to the gym to here, and she brought it with them into his room.  He had his own little bathroom with a tiny shower, but she didn't take up much space. She rifled through her bag for her shower stuff and clean clothes.  They were both sweaty and gross from the day.  His muscles were aching more than usual.  It was his massage day, but the tech was already gone for the holidays.  He collapsed on the bed while she continued to dig in the bag.  She looked up at him.

"Okay? Do you hurt?"

"A little," he admitted.  They had been going since just before eight this morning, trying to get in that last day of training before everyone went home.  They probably should have skipped the gym, but they were under so much pressure to be ready for Nationals.  He wanted to be in the best shape of his life.  There was so much lower body work, especially in the short and so much stretching to match her lines, which was impossible, but he was trying.  His legs were killing him. 

"Back?" She asked him.

"Legs," he answered. He had his hand on his forehead rubbing his eyes.  He never should have lain down.  She crawled over the bed and took one of his legs firmly in her hands.  She bent his knee up to his chest and massaged his quad.  Then she lay it over on his side to stretch it out and massaged some more. She brought it back up to his chest and worked some more magic before laying it down in the other direction, and repeating the process with the other leg.  She was singing a pop song that played constantly at the rink slightly off key; he was fairly certain she had no idea she was even singing.  He grinned at her and she covered her mouth with a hand and smiled.  He pulled her down and rolled over on his side so they were facing each other, and he kissed her long and slowly. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself close.  He could have fallen asleep right there.

"Come on, shower and dinner.  I'm really hungry," she laughed.

"Okay," and he followed her into the bathroom, both stripping clothes as they walked. She turned on the hot water and the bathroom steamed almost immediately.  He wasn't sure what kind of shower this was going to be, so he let her take the lead.  She placed him right under the hot stream and let the water soothe his muscles.  She massaged his upper body with soap, spending a lot of time on his shoulders that he realized were very tense.  He felt her kissing him lightly between his shoulder blades; she must have been standing on her toes, and her little belly was pressed into his ass.  He was getting very hard in spite of his fatigue, and she reached around and took him into her hand, making him groan. She pivoted around him and was kneeling in front of him in a moment firmly gripping him on the hips and taking his cock into her mouth. He leaned back slightly against the wall and watched her before the sensations took over and he went into a blur before he came hard down her throat.  He called out her name loudly, enjoying the empty house. She eased herself up with a crooked grin and sparkling eyes.  He grabbed her and pulled her up against the wall, her legs wrapped tightly around him, and kissed her and then held her firmly against him. 

They disentangled and finished showering just as the water turned tepid.  He wrapped her up in a big towel.

"Your turn," he said.

"My turn later.  Let's eat!" She said and laughed. 

He jogged into the kitchen to preheat the broiler for the steaks.  When he returned she was already dressed.  She must really be starving, he thought.

"Vegetables to chop?" She asked.

"I got pre-chopped," he said, and she made a face.  "Don't look at me that way--it's spinach, do you want to spend the next twenty minutes washing it?"

"No," she admitted.  "Did you get cauliflower?" That was her favorite.

"Of course."

"I'll go put it in to steam," she kissed him quickly with a grin and trotted off to the kitchen while he dressed.  He was putting on some flannel pajama pants when he heard her yell, "Dylan!"

"Yeah?"

"Is this our cake?"  The joy in her voice made him laugh.

"Yeah!"

He could hear her do a happy dance in there.  He walked in the kitchen, and she looked like someone had given her a check for a thousand dollars.

"I hope it's good.  It was the prettiest one," he told her.

"It looks soooooooo good.  We could just eat that."

"Dinner first," he insisted and got the steaks out to season.  She moaned when she saw them.

They ate every bite and each had a generous slice of cake.  It was chocolate with vanilla butter cream and chocolate ganache between the layers, and Luba rolled her eyes up in to her head at the first bite. 

"Merry Christmas," he said again, and she smiled at him like he had just given her a diamond necklace. "Do you want to sing a Christmas carol or something?"

"Yes!"

"I was joking. Please let's not."

She threw her napkin at him and started clearing off the table.  The whole time they cleaned she was humming that Mariah Carey song that played ten times a day from November through January.  Cleaning the kitchen together made him nostalgic for their Detroit summer.  He had been worried the whole time about whether or not the partnership was a good risk, and whether she'd get that visa, and whether or not Sarah was going to break up with him.  He wished he could go back now and just enjoy every day.  It was so simple then, really.  No family pressure, no looming Nationals, no long commutes, no withering looks from coaches. 

She was furiously scrubbing out the broiler tray with steel wool over the sink, up to her elbows in suds.  He leaned back on the counter to watch her.  She sprayed down the tray when she was satisfied with how clean it was and then ran a cloth all over it and the sink.  She turned around to see him gazing at her.

"What?"

"Nothing."  He took her arm and held her close.  She was wet all down the front from the dishes and protested at first, and then took off her t-shirt and returned to him.

"I need to brush my teeth," she said sheepishly.

"Me, too, he laughed.

They went back to his room, and she was digging in that magic bag again.  He had a similar one that went every where with him and had every essential for the rink, for the gym, for the ballet studio, for the suburbs.  The bag wore out every six months or so from overuse.  It was hard to imagine a life that didn't require one: having one job, and one house, and one gym that you probably made excuses not to visit more often than not.  Luba pulled out her toothbrush holder, a rather exotic design she'd had since she'd arrived and her toothpaste that had been purchased here, and headed toward the bathroom.

"You could leave a toothbrush here," he suggested.  "And speaking of that, we probably need to find you a dentist."

She gave him a stricken look, and he wished he could get the words back.  She was self-conscious about her teeth, and always smiled with a closed mouth when she thought about it.  He loved the pictures where she was too joyous to remember.

"I mean, just because you've been here for more than six months.  We're supposed to go to the dentist twice a year.  Everyone does."

"As soon as I get my residency and insurance," she said, clearly annoyed. 

"We go to my dad's friend, I'm sure we can work something out."

"Fine, Dylan, I go to dentist!"  She closed the bathroom door behind her.

Awesome.  He smacked himself in the head.  But she left the toothbrush in there instead of returning it to the bag when she came out.  He brushed his own teeth quickly and returned to find her in bed with her book. 

"Luba."

"What?

"Forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," she said rather dismissively. 

He got in bed beside her and gently put his hand on the book.  She replaced the bookmark and put it on the table and turned to face him with an unreadable expression.  He took her face in his hands and kissed her. 

"You are beautiful," he whispered.

"So are you," she whispered and rolled on top of him.

 

They were the only skaters at the rink in the morning, and the quiet was nice.  They ran all the elements, worked on some problem areas--after months of being consistent the spins were disturbingly wonky lately--and then did a run-through of each program.  The hand to hand lift that closed the long program was still problematic, so they broke it down and practiced it at half-speed before trying it again.  It was a satisfying half day of work. 

They dressed for the day at home and headed to the suburbs.  The house already smelled of Julia's feast, and Luba ran in to help.  He played Texas Hold-em for the rest of the afternoon with his sisters and dad while they gorged themselves on the chocolate, and the other three on the vodka, which wasn't really temping to him anyway.

Mama and Papa had sent the girls animal onesies, and they were lounging in them.  They had sent him a hoodie from Luba's university.  He hoped again that they would be assigned to Cup of Russia for the next year so that he could see Moscow with her and meet her family. 

His sisters had put together an entire box of cheese for Luba, and Dylan hoped they would still be hungry for the Russian dinner, which of course they managed. They toasted Sasha with their vodka and sang silly Christmas songs.  He got out his guitar and played along with Luba taking the lead. They posed for a family photo, and he pulled her onto his lap. If anyone was scandalized by that, they didn't say anything.  They watched _Home Alone_ , and Luba fell asleep on the rug, curled up in her sheep onesie, looking all of eight years old.  He carried her to her bed, and she woke up as he was transferring her onto it.  She squeezed his neck and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

"Thank you, Dylan," she said and drifted back to sleep.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Luba**

**January 2015**

 

It was very quiet; aside from boots crunching down on icy snow or skate blades scratching out turns, it was sometimes silent. It was a stark contrast from last month's frenzy of preparation and celebration.  She tried to keep it quiet in her head as well, although that was a challenge.

The club was open for extended hours now as skaters prepared for Nationals and in the case of some of Orser's guys, Europeans.  She and Dylan took advantage of this, usually coming back from the gym to run elements in the quiet.  No music, no coaches, just them.  Luba worked on stillness.  If she could discipline her body against unnecessary motion, surely she could discipline her mind similarly.  She got the lift in the short program down to four moves:  the entry straight into first position, second position, swing down, and grab.  She could tell if she was properly aligned by the sounds his blades made as he rotated.  There was no need to talk, either.  A look passed between them as Dylan stretched out his free leg to match hers confirmed whether or not it had been worthy.

Nasty self-talk, which had always been a problem, came at her in two languages now.  In Russian she criticized everything about her technique and execution, in English she brutalized her inability to adapt to her new surroundings and of course that old stand-by: her appearance.  For some reason, the silence helped.  She started shushing her mind out loud when the mean voices started.

Because of the new schedule, it made sense for her to move into the city until Nationals.  On New Year's Day, she and Kyra packed up her room, and they carried her luggage to the car.  Kyra and Elena were going back to school the next day anyway, so she wouldn't be missing sister time.  Bryce welcomed her to the condo family with none of the wariness Dylan was expecting.  She had a fraction of the clothes that Dylan had, and her stuff hardly took up much space.  No one on either side of the move commented on the sleeping arrangements, and she quietly moved into Dylan's room.

Julia seemed the saddest about the whole thing, and she arrived two days into January with bags of groceries for the household.  Luba missed her company in the mornings when she made the lunches.  She offered to include Bryce, but he did his own thing. Between the two men, and Bryce's girlfriend Rachel, who was rarely there because of her school and hospital schedule, Luba didn't think the stove had been cleaned in months, and the counter tops were almost as bad.  She paid her rent in scrubbing every surface and keeping on top of the laundry.  Bryce had the nicest vacuum she had ever seen.

At the club during their normal training hours, they worked intensely on the long program.  It had to sharper and yet softer and more elegant. More romance.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Lee said more dryly than ever.

Tracy had demanded a new dress.

"But I love the blue," Luba protested, thinking of what they could do to better use twenty-five hundred dollars--at cost, that the seamstress was graciously offering.

"The blue was fine, but it's not what we want to show," Tracy insisted.

The seamstress pinned pieces of black velvet on Luba, and she gasped in the mirror.  The back was exquisite with dramatic cut-outs, the sleeves were black shear patterned mesh with tiny sequins that made her arms look long and elegant, the skirt was slightly longer than she usually wore, making the dress look more evening gown than skating costume.  She already looked like she was going to a red carpet event.  Tracy gently wrapped Luba's ponytail into a knot, and Luba elongated her neck.

"See?" Tracy asked her. "Pearls in your hair," she said and traced lines on either side of Luba's head. 

"Yes, I see," Luba laughed. 

A week later, the dress was finished, along with Dylan's new shirt with black accents and french cuffs.  They tried them on and posed, and the whole team approved. 

Dylan had given up shaving for some superstitious reason until they left for Nationals, but even scruffy-faced, he looked more Bond than before.

The students returned for the second week, and life was louder and more fun in the afternoons.  They were all wearing new practice clothes that had been under their trees, and many had new skates as well.  She had them drill footwork mostly for the first week back to help them get a feel for their new boots.  Then they would do limited jumps and spins, and end on everyone's favorite--five minute dance party.  After they were all thoroughly _Uptown Funked_ , they would skate arm in arm with Luba to the boards.

She and Dylan would go to ballet class, visit the nutritionist or psychologist, or get a message, and then head to the gym.  After working out there, they would be back at the club for their night session.  They would try to be home by nine for a ten-minute thrown together dinner of chicken and vegetables, and then they would collapse, Dylan usually on the couch before Luba was done in the kitchen.

She wasn't sure whether she should wake him and send him to bed or let him sleep.  He had been struggling with sore muscles and exhaustion, so the first night, she left him be.  She took a shower by herself and let the hot water massage her back. With her finger against the fogged up shower door, she wrote in Russian and then wiped it out.  She dried herself, put on clean underwear and a huge t-shirt of Dylan's and fell asleep almost immediately.  When the alarm went off, he was next to her, but they hit the snooze too many times to do anything but throw on clothes and grab protein bars on the way out the door.

Her period finally arrived, and she was able to start her first pack of pills, but the combination of the two left her sick in the tiny bathroom after Dylan had fallen asleep.  The retching woke him up, and he stumbled in to find her throwing up while trying to cover her ass with her t-shirt. He looked at her helplessly.  She missed Julia's soothing voice and her heating pad.

"Can I...?" He offered.

"You could get me some ibuprofen and a...plastic bag." She said after rinsing her mouth and lying back down on the bathroom floor. 

He returned shortly with the pills and a shopping bag.

"No, like a..." She mimed closing a bag with her fingers moving in a straight line.

"Oh, like a Ziplock?" 

"I don't know...not for sandwiches, but a big one."

"I'll see."  He found one in the kitchen and brought it back.  She ran a washcloth under scalding water and sealed in the bag, curled up on the bathmat, placed the bag on her belly, and prayed she would keep the medicine down. 

He sat with his back against the cabinet and rubbed her shoulders gently.

"Is it like this every month?"

"Not usually this bad, and not when I'm on the birth control pills, but they make me sick at first.  Not good."

"I'm sorry."  They stayed in silence for a few minutes.  "What's on the shower door?"

She craned her head to see her message had not been wiped out.

"It says _try_ _to be calm_.  I'll get at it with shower cleaner tomorrow."

"No, leave it.  It's good." He said quietly.  They started to drift off to sleep, so he helped her stagger into bed again with her barely warm wash-cloth.  She slept the rest of the night.  On the way to the club in the morning, she called Kathy who told her that nausea was very normal, that it should clear up soon, to call her if it didn't, and that she should use a backup this month in case she had thrown up the pill.  Between the way she felt, and Dylan witnessing the whole scene, she doubted she would have to worry about birth control for a while anyway.

She slammed more ibuprofen and made it through the day, feeling mostly human by the time it was over.  She skipped most of the gym and hung out in the steam room.  At least the nausea was gone.  She leaned up against the wall at her back, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.  Dylan was teaching Krav Maga, so she had an extra twenty minutes.  She wrapped the towel around her tightly, dressed again in the locker room, and napped in a lobby chair until he was ready to go.  Boring dinner, a good night of sleep, and another training day tomorrow.

She felt like they had underestimated their need for a mother at the present time.  Sunday morning of the second weekend, she spent an hour on the phone with Julia getting recipes and tips, then she drug Dylan to the grocery store and spent the rest of the day cooking for the week. She served spaghetti that night with Julia's meat sauce Luba had been simmering for hours.  She made a salad using all the colors and sliced a grainy loaf of bread.  Rachel was there, and the four sat down to an actual dinner. Bryce uncorked a bottle of dark red wine, and Dylan moaned.

"You can have a glass," Bryce told him.

"I don't want a glass, I want half the bottle." Dylan stuck with his huge, ubiquitous water bottle.  Luba had a third of a glass and savored every taste.

Everyone ate their whole plate of food and went back for seconds, which made Luba happy.  Bryce and Rachel insisted on cleaning.  Luba had done most of it before dinner, packing away the week's worth of dinners in the fridge and freezer. Julia had told her to label the containers with what was inside and the date, and she had three neat stacks stored away.

They settled in on the couch to watch _Downton Abbey_.  Luba loved the clothes, but hadn't seen the previous seasons and found the accents difficult to follow.  She wrote her weekly long email to Anna, and then excused herself to bed.  She was settling in bed with her book when Dylan came in.

"Did you watch the whole thing?" she asked him.

"Nah, I missed most of it last year and am too far behind to enjoy it.  Dinner was great."

"Thanks," she told him again.  He went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and she returned to her book.  He came out in pajama bottoms and Cricket Club t-shirt.

"Why did you miss it last year?"

"Driving back to Waterloo Sunday nights."

"So that's what you would be doing?"

"Huh?"

"If not so much had changed from last year."

"Oh.  I see.  If the major world event _the break-up of Kirsten Moore-Towers and Dylan Moscovitch_ had not happened, I would be..." He stopped as if deep in thought.  "I would be...getting ready for Nationals.  We would be long shots to beat Meagan and Eric.  We probably made the Grand Prix Final and came in...fifth?  They won, so they are the clear favorites.  Since Kirsten and I have the exact same program layouts as last season..."

"New lift entry!"

"Oh yes, the new lift entry will definitely compete with a throw quad and the lutzes," he laughed.

"And you're still with Sarah?" Luba asked lightly.

"Probably.  That's why I'm driving back to Waterloo Sunday night.  I was tempted to stay over and drive in the next morning, but no amount of mediocre sex is worth having to get up at three to make training.  That's not nice, sorry."

"Mediocre?"

"Not great, not terrible."

"Ah.  Mediocre programs, mediocre sex," she teased him.

"But I have these dreams every night," he said with a far away look.

"Yes?"

"I dream of this crazy, bendy, Russian girl..."

"Crazy, bendy, Russian woman!" She corrected him.

"Sexy, Russian woman," he revised.

"Better.  But I am coach in Moscow and still hoping to have partner. So just a dream."

"No, someone would have snapped you up.  You could be with Simon in Boston."

"I would like to go to Boston," she said lightly.

"Yeah, it's great. Or you would be with Nate in Florida."

"Ingo Steuer lives in Florida," she said dreamily.

"There you go--you could be living in Florida with Ingo."

She punched him lightly in the arm and then kissed his bicep.

"But here you are in balmy Toronto.  It's supposed to get to minus ten tomorrow, by the way.  We can run by the water." He rolled her over on top of him and kissed her.

"Lucky to be in Toronto," she whispered. 

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Nationals**

**January 2015**

 

**Dylan**

 

He was late.  He had already received texts from Kyra and Elena wondering where he was.  The cafe was three blocks from the hotel, and he was hustling to get there. Sasha had a week's leave, and Dylan hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him yet.  A young woman stopped him on the street.

"Dylan!"

"Hi!" Patience. Friendliness.  You're really lucky to have fans at all, dickhead.

"Congratulations!  You and Lubov were so...amazing.  I love you two together!"

"Thank you!  It wasn't..."

"Oh, it was so good!  Can I get a picture with you?"

Patience. "Of course," Dylan leaned in and smiled and even gave her a second to make sure it was clear.  "Thanks again.  Bye!" He started walking quickly again.  The young woman shouted after him.

"I just ran in to Kirsten, too!"

"Well, tell her I said hi," Dylan called back.  That was idiotic.  Tell her I said hi?  Go back in time.  Good lord.

The cafe door had a bell on it, and the siblings all turned to look at him as he entered. Kyra and Elena had irritated expressions, and Sasha seemed amused.

"Hey, sorry.  Where are Mom and Dad?"

Kyra humphed, and Elena looked at him incredulously.

"Do you never read a text?" She said.

"I do." He pulled out his phone. _Mom has a cold and Dad is staying with her_.  Okay, thank you for telling me.  I hope Mom is okay," he said.

"She'll be fine, I think she's just tired.  Where is Luba?" Kyra asked him.

"She's getting room service with her friends."

"What friends?" Kyra asked, rather accusingly.

"I don't know. Kaitlyn and Alex, I guess."

"She left so early last night, and now she doesn't want to have breakfast with us?"

"I didn't tell her we were all having breakfast--I saw her the last time you did!" Dylan protested.

"Then how do you know her breakfast plans?" Kyra was only half joking with this.

"Kyra, give it a rest," Sasha said.

"She texted me," Dylan answered.  "I'm sure she wants to see you--you can hang out this afternoon after the gala, okay?  Speaking of which, rehearsal starts in just a little over an hour, so..."

"She did leave early last night," Elena added helpfully, and Dylan sighed.

"She was exhausted.  We've been under some stress," Dylan added.

"So are you two...?" Elena started.

"What?" Dylan countered.

"Together.  In the same hotel room."

"They have adjoining rooms," Kyra said.

Dylan sighed. Patience. "She was asleep when I got back last night."  He had been conflicted about whether he should get in bed with her or leave her to sleep. She had hardly slept the night before because of nerves, and he hated to disturb her.  He had covered her with a blanket and retreated to his own bed. This morning when he woke up, the door was shut between the two rooms. "I got a text from her that she was eating with her friends.  I took a shower and ran over here; what else do you want to know?"

"So you are together?" Sasha asked as the waitress finally arrived.

"Elena, what do you want?" Dylan asked her, deflecting Sasha's question.  Elena gave him a tart look and turned to the server.  "I'll have the veggie omelet with a whole wheat English muffin, no butter."

"French toast," Kyra ordered in turn.

"Big Country Breakfast with corned beef hash for the meat.  And toast," Sasha ordered.

"Coffee is fine," Dylan said.

"Norman gave us the card," Elena said dryly.

"I'll have the same thing as him," Dylan indicated to Sasha.

"Two Big Country Breakfasts, hash," the server repeated and took the menus.

"As if we would let you not eat," Elena told him.  "Or pay."

"Anyway..." Dylan started.

"Luba." Sasha helped him out.  "You are together?"

"We haven't defined anything..."

"But, yes," Kyra said.  "Although she's moving back in with Mom and Dad next week."

"It's complicated," Elena laughed.

"That's mostly for Mom," Dylan said.  "And Luba.  They missed each other."

"Did you ever talk to Bryce about it?" Elena asked him.

"Bryce is fine." Not strictly true.  Bryce had given him a lecture on balance of power and had even used the word _creepy_.

"I'll bet," Elena said.

"Dyl, could you Tweet about my coat?  I left with the wrong coat last night," Kyra implored.

"So yours is missing, and you had some other poor schmuck's coat?" He laughed.

"Basically," Elena answered.

"And everyone that was at that club probably follows you," Kyra said.

"I take it you didn't get an upgrade? Good luck on getting it back," he said to Kyra.  He turned to Elena "What happened? You were supposed to be guarding her. Sasha got back with all of his clothes."

"As far as you know," Sasha said.

"Ew," Kyra wrinkled her nose.

When Kyra was two and Sasha was four, Norman had taught eleven year old Dylan and nine year old Elena man to man defense.  Dylan spent a lot of the next fifteen years covering one or the other of his baby siblings.

The server arrived with a huge tray of food and started passing the plates.  Dylan's breakfast was the best meal he had seen in days.  He was starving and dove in immediately, breaking the yoke of his over easy egg onto the hash.

"It was dark; she came with a coat, she left with a coat, what do you want from me?" Elena was spreading honey on her muffin.

"Hey, I'm an adult!" Kyra sounded insulted, and Dylan and Elena scoffed.

"Yes, I will Tweet.  Do you have a picture of the coats?"

"Sending them," Kyra was typing on her phone.  "Oh my god, look at this!" She flipped her phone to Elena.

Elena looked at the screen, and her eyes grew wide. "Bitch. Sasha, you were supposed to be guarding him," Elena accused Sasha.

Dylan grabbed the phone. Kirsten had Tweeted a picture she had taken of the two of them the night before.

"What?" Sasha grabbed the phone.

"What's the big deal?" Dylan asked.  "It looks nice."

"I didn't see, I promise," Sasha said to Elena. "Well done, Towers."

Kyra grabbed the phone back.  "Gotta give her credit.  Must have killed her to hear the crowd response for you and Luba."

"Listen..." Dylan started.

"Ugh, she has no shame.  All better, now," Elena put on a Kirsten-esque sing-songy voice.  "See, Dylan forgives me," she switched back to her own voice.  "It was a ploy, Dylan."

"Who cares?  It's over.  Eat your food."

They were quiet for a few moments.

"You did kick her ass," Sasha said with a mouth full of food.

"You did," Kyra said.

"It was amazing," Elena rolled her eyes in pleasure.

Dylan smiled and ate his toast.

 

**Luba**

 

She tapped on Kaitlyn's door, and Alex's face appeared.

"Password?"

"What?"  Luba was thoroughly confused.

"Just kidding," Alex swung the door open and pulled Luba in by the arm.

"Hey!" Kaitlyn called.  "We're just deciding what to order. You look great!"

Luba had on her practice clothes and her hair in a high ponytail, and looked far from great.  Kaitlyn was still in her pajamas, though.

"I want waffles!" Alex insisted.

"You're not getting waffles," Kaitlyn said sadly.

"I know."

"Fruit, oatmeal, coffee," Luba interjected.

"For three, except make mine tea," Alex said.

Kaitlyn ordered over the phone in an efficient voice.

"And three sides of bacon.  And donuts," Alex called out, and Kaitlyn shushed her.

"Bacon!" Luba groaned.

"I know!"

"I haven't thought about bacon in...a long time."

"Mitch has hockey on Saturday mornings, and they always go out for breakfast after.  He comes home reeking of bacon.  I inhale his clothes."

"Saturday mornings are the worst! Everyone else in the world eats the most amazing things on Saturdays," Kaitlyn added.

"Julia, Dylan's mom, makes great breakfasts on the weekends, and I eat them," Luba laughed.  "But no bacon at the Moscovitch's."

"Yeah, I guess not," Alex laughed.

"Why?" Kaitlyn was baffled.

"Jewish," Alex helped her.

"Oh, yeah," Kaitlyn laughed.  "Sorry!"

"That's okay," Luba laughed.  "I just never realized how much pork Mama cooked."

"You don't know what you've got, 'til it's gone," Alex said with mock sadness.

"No, you don't," Luba matched the sad tone and then remembered her manners.  "Congratulations, both of you.  I didn't get to see you last night after," Luba pulled the other two into a three way hug.  "I'm so happy we all medal."

"I was sweating it out, but yeah, thank goodness," Alex seemed very relieved.

"I looked for you at the club, but Dylan said you had already left," Kaitlyn said.

"I was so tired, I could hardly stand, I...hit my limit," Luba laughed.  "I LOVE to dance at clubs, and I wanted to..." Luba searched for the word and danced a little bit to show them, "with you and Kyra, but I was so tired.  I couldn't sleep the night before..." 

The short program had gone well at first, but she had become overwhelmed and messed up the spin. She was so relieved about the jump, so annoyed with herself over the spin, and so nervous for the long program, she had lain there awake all night.  She had started out in Dylan's bed but had eventually moved back to her own, so her tossing and turning wouldn't disturb him.  She had collapsed back in that bed last night, hoping that Dylan would crawl in with her when he got back from the club, but when she awoke this morning, he was passed out on his own bed.  She had shut the door between the two rooms so as not to wake him.  She texted him quickly to let him know where she was.

"That's okay.  We still have tonight. It will be more fun anyway after the gala," Alex told her.

"I'm nervous for that, too!  We just threw something together."

"Don't worry about it.  What are you wearing?" Kaitlyn asked.

"The purple outfit from practice," Luba answered.

"Ooooooh, that is so hot!" Alex told her.

"Thank you!" Luba laughed as a knock at the door heralded the food.  She pulled out her money to give Kaitlyn, who shooed her away with it.

They sat at the little table, blowing at their mugs to cool them off.  Luba swirled some honey onto her oatmeal and then dumped the fruit on top.

"Oatmeal, my favorite." Alex said without joy. 

"Sooo good with the fruit," Luba offered.

"Meh."

"To Canadian medalists!" Kaitlyn held up her mug, and they clunked them.

"To a new Canadian ice dance champion!" Alex said.

"Yay, Kaitlyn and Andrew!" Luba joined in.

"Thank you!  To Korea and Shanghai!"

"Yes!  I've never been to Korea--I can't wait!" Luba said.

"I haven't either," Alex was picking at her oatmeal.  "New passport stamp.  You've been there, Kait?"

"Once at a 4CCs a million years ago, but not to Seoul.  Do you want to room together, Luba?  Alex and Kirsten have an arrangement..."

"That sounds so shady," Alex laughed.  "Skate Canada doesn't like non-married coed room sharing, so Kirsten and I have a room, and Mike and Mitch have a room, and then..."

"Yes, Russian fed was like that, too.  You would think they would figure out it's easier to just let people sleep where they want to."

"I think it's because of the young kids, can't corrupt the kids, ya know," Kaitlyn took a last drink of coffee and started searching in her suitcase for her practice clothes.  "Anyway, Andrew will room with Dylan, and he will stay with me if you and Dylan want to share."

"All platonically, of course," Alex teased the other two.

"Platonically for us, anyway." Kaitlyn laughed.  "Now Luba and Dylan..." Both girls looked at Luba who was typing on her phone although she had a pretty good idea what _platonically_ must mean from the context, and from the giggles. 

"I would love to share a room with you in Seoul," she told Kaitlyn.  "Platonically," she smiled.

"Yes, that's the next big romance!  Kait and Luba!" Alex laughed.

"You can be in our love triangle," Kaitlyn told her.  "I still want to know if Dylan's in it, too, though," and she looked right at Luba.

"Maybe," Luba said with a little smile.

"Really!  That's great!  Is that good?" Kaitlyn laughed.

"It's good."

"I'd heard a rumor," Alex told Luba.  "Were you together at Challenge?"

"That was when...yes." Luba admitted.  "Who did you hear...?" Alex and Kyra weren't close, and Luba couldn't think of anyone else who might have said anything.

"Kirsten suspected it," Alex told her.  "She saw you two cuddled up together or something.  I guess that wasn't part of her pre-game ritual with Dylan."

"I don't remember anything...public, but who knows," Luba said.  "He's so weird about it anyway. I have no idea what he's really thinking.  I just enjoy and try not to expect anything."

"Boys are awful," Kaitlyn said, going into the bathroom to change.

"They really are," agreed Alex.  "For what it's worth, he's totally different around you than he was with Kirsten.  They didn't really even seem like friends for the most part."

"So you weren't surprised when they break up?" Luba was genuinely curious.

"No, I wasn't surprised.  She had been talking about it for a long time.  I'm more surprised that they lasted as long as they did.  She'd been wanting to skate with someone her age for...well, for years."

This was shocking for Luba to hear.  "But Dylan knew nothing of this?"

Alex sighed.  "I know he had heard rumors.  Mitch talked to him about it, but Dylan can be...you probably know this...Dylan can be very...work focused?  I think he dismissed stuff he didn't really want to hear or think about.  Kirsten said he scheduled every minute of every training day and stuck to the schedule, like every day."

"He does, but that's what works.  It's very..." Luba made a series of neat little boxes with her hands.  "I work that way, too."

"Well, that's perfect, then.  I guess she thought it was suffocating, or something."

"That's the key, right?" Kaitlyn said from the bathroom.  She stuck her head out, and she had a ponytail on the very top of her crown. "Finding someone who likes to work the way you work?"

"And yet..." Alex said.

"Yeah?" Kaitlyn poked her head out again.

"Training is so much fun, you guys!" Alex said in a chirpy voice.  "More fun if he could lift you," back in her own.  "Ugh, sorry.  Kirsten is my friend."

"Kirsten is my friend, too, but you're absolutely right," Kaitlyn answered.

"Kirsten did something very nice for me," Luba was gathering the breakfast dishes on the tray.

"And see, that's true, too.  Kirsten very selflessly gave us Luba," Alex put her arm around Luba's shoulder.

"Yes, thank you Kirsten and Dylan for Luba," Kaitlyn laughed.  "What time is the shuttle?" She said with a mouth full of toothbrush.

"Twenty minutes," Luba told them and pulled her own toothbrush and paste out of her magic bag.  Alex did the same. 

They made it down to the lobby with time to spare, but there was no sign of Dylan.

 **Luba** :  Shuttle will be here soon, are you up?

 **Dylan** :  Yeah, I'll meet you there.  I'm at breakfast with the family.  They missed you, BTW.

 **Luba** :  I miss them, too. 

She had a big, warm lump in her chest all of a sudden.

 **Luba** :  Dylan, thank you for all of this.  Thanks for Nationals.  I love everything about it.  Is so much fun.  XOXO<3

She waited for a response; the little grey bubble sitting there so full of promise.  The shuttle pulled up, and she boarded with her girls, and ended up wedged between Alex and the window on the overcrowded bus.  Finally, her phone buzzed, and she peeked at it subtly.

 **Dylan** :  Agree, thank YOU. XO. <3 

 

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Dylan**

**January 2015**

 

Luba moved back in with his parents the day they returned home from Nationals.  She didn't have much stuff, but he kept looking around the condo trying to delay the inevitable.  Bryce wasn't home yet, and they ended up in his bed with curtains cracked watching the snow fall after rather passionate sex tinged with sadness.  Her chin was on his chest and those enormous brown eyes were practically calling out _tell me not to go_. 

 _Don't go_.

She kissed his chest and took his hand into the shower.

"I should be home in time for dinner."

"Yeah."

"You should stay and eat."

"I will."

Her verb tenses were getting really good. He had no doubt she would have better command over English than he did within the year.  The bathroom fogged up, and her little Russian mantra popped up on the shower door like it did every morning.  He was really protective of it. They did the efficient not fun shower and dressed quickly. She grabbed her magic bag, and he got the big suitcase.  He paused and kissed her before they left.  He could still taste her from before and he wanted to throw her down again...but the drive and dinner.  They passed Bryce on the way out anyway.

"It's not going to be the same without you, Luba."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bryce," she said with a hint of a tone Dylan suspected Bryce wouldn't pick up.  He hadn't told her about Bryce's reservations, but Bryce had sat her down for a chat she had found patronizing although it wasn't in her nature to argue back to a coach.

They threw the bags in the back on the SUV and pulled out of the parking lot.

"He'll miss me cleaning and cooking; that's what he means," Luba said in a pissed off tone. "He should get a maid."

It was snowing like crazy and traffic back to the suburbs was ridiculous.  They couldn't have had worse timing.

"Stay tonight.  We can drive back in the morning," she sighed.

"Okay."

She smiled just a little.

"Not in my room," she told him.

"I know.  We could put you in Kyra's. That's just a walk through the bathroom."

"No," she said.  "Norman sleepwalks."

"That's just an excuse to check on everyone."

"I know!  Coach lecturing me about sex is bad enough!  I can't take it from your dad."

"Okay," he laughed.

"I'm really hoping it's just going to be about the skating now for the rest of the season," she said.

_Wait, what?_

"What do you mean?" The driving conditions were not good, and he felt tension take over his shoulders and neck. 

"What?" She sounded confused.

"You want it just to be skating between us for the rest of the season?" His felt his blood coursing in him, racing to his head.

"No! No, Dylan!" She took his bicep in both hands and put her head on his shoulder, scootching up in her seat.  "I don't want to hear any more opinions about us that doesn't...don't have to do with skating.  No, I don't want to be just skating with you." She squeezed his arm and kissed his shoulder.  "Believe me," she added in a quiet voice.

"Okay, good.  And I agree.  Listen, I know it's not ideal.  I wish you had a place in town," He wished they had their own place, but he couldn't say that out loud.  "This commuting back and forth for you is awful."

"I have a train pass now, it will be fine. And Norman can still drive me in the mornings."

"I'm not crazy about you riding home on the train late every night."

"Dylan," she laughed, "If you knew how many hours of my life I have spent on a train--you would not worry, okay?"

He rested his hand on her leg, and she put hers on top. 

"Okay," he said.

His mom had a huge dinner ready with salmon, several kinds of vegetables and thick slices of brown bread that Luba loved.  He had to admit that Luba seemed really happy to be back and moving her stuff back into her own room.  If only his parents weren't quite so awesome he thought and then laughed at himself.  She kissed him goodnight at her bedroom door and then closed it behind her.  Back up to his room again.

They got an early start in the morning and left with Norman at six.  They had lots of work to do before it was time to fly to Korea in a little less than two weeks.  They had been slammed for the death spiral in the short, and the jumps in the long were just embarrassing.  He didn't really like to think about it because it made him cringe.  He had thrown her too hard, probably to overcompensate, and then they had finally settled down.  Neither program was really what he had wanted to show.  The reception from the public, though, had been more than he could have hoped for.  It was bothering him that he didn't feel like he had fully earned that response.  They had a meeting with Tracy and Lee this morning, and he was dreading it.

He pulled into their spot, and they crunched up the sidewalk not yet cleared.  They would have more than an hour before the coaches arrived, and Dylan was looking forward to some quiet work.  Without really planning it out, they ran the jumping passes until both were out of breath.  Luba was doing an excellent job of staying clear-headed as they drilled.  Many, many of her attempts weren't perfect, but she wasn't letting that stop her.  He took her hand and skated the perimeter watching Nam drill.  He was coming off a triumphant Nationals, and he had an extra little swagger, even now on a Tuesday morning. 

"Looking good, you guys!" Orser called out as they passed, and Luba gave him a cute little wink.  They were running the pair spin when Lee and Tracy arrived and motioned for them to join.  They stowed their skates for the time being and walked to one of the conference rooms.  Dylan felt like he was in grade six and had been summoned to the principal for a bad report card.

But the mood was jovial between the coaches.  Tracy was really pleased with the expression in all three programs.

"Watch the videos!"

"I don't want to," Dylan laughed.

"No, you should.  See where you get the biggest response.  Anytime you look at each other--watch." She played a clip from the long--thankfully after the technical debacles.

"Yeah, I've never heard the crowd react so enthusiastically to a pair spin," Lee said wryly.

Dylan watched on the screen as Luba caressed his face, and the crowd really did love it.  Wow.

"Somehow the 'boring, slow, middle section,'" Tracy made little finger quotes, "Has become the showcase of this program."

"Now we just have to get the tech to match.  And we will," Lee said.

They worked on spins, which for some reason had become problematic, and then on throws.  After lunch they did run-throughs and then broke down components.  Tuesday was ballet, and Luba got a ride home after from their teacher.  A quick wave and then he didn't see her until the next day when she had a large shopping bag full of dinners for him for the week.

"Bryce can have some if there's extra," she said begrudgingly. 

"Let's go home for lunch and put them in the fridge," he suggested. 

"Both of us need to do this job?" She had a little half smile. 

"Yes."  But what were they supposed to do in winter in Toronto? They were, in fact, adults, not teenagers fucking in the backseat of a deserted parking lot. Their options were limited. The Cricket was off-limits if they wanted not to be fired.  He was too old for this, but he wasn't creative or wealthy enough to find a solution. 

When they reached the condo, He had her top off before the door was completely shut behind them. She had on one of those impossibly complex sports bras.

"Really?"

She pulled it off with a flourish.  "You think I don't need?" She smiled as she smashed her mouth back on his. He wrapped his arm around her and clicked on the gas log fire place with the remote in the other hand.  There was a very soft living room rug he sank her into as he removed her pants in underwear in one motion.

"Should I get a...?"

"Only if you want one.  Don't need..." She was shoving down his own pants and wrapping her legs around him.

"Sure?"

"Yes!"

She called out as he entered her and then flipped them so she was on top.  They had worked hard all morning, and she was glistening already.  Her eyes were half closed, and and she had a little smirk as she rose and fell against him.  He wanted to make her come so hard she would scream. She was very wet already and was rubbing herself with her fingers as she fucked him. He gripped her by the hips and flipped them again, pulled out and crawled down to take her in his mouth. She came almost the moment he put his tongue on her, and arched her back and called out, splaying her hands on the rug beside her and then taking his head and leading him back up. She kissed him and wrapped her legs tightly around him again.  She grabbed his ass and took him into her again.  He fucked her hard and came with a long moan, collapsing on her. 

"We have to go," she said a moment later.

"I know."

"Don't forget to turn off the fire."

They rinsed off quickly and threw the containers into the fridge while pulling on clothes.

"Shirt wrong side," she told him.

"Thanks."

They ate their sandwiches in the car on the way back.

"I talked to Julia and Norman about the room situation," she told him when they were about a block away from the club.

"What room situation?"

"You know, at home.  I asked them if it was okay, did they mind if you slept in my room when you were there."

He pulled into the parking lot and then looked over at her.  "You...?  Why?"

She looked confused and a little hurt.

"It's not...respectful to...hide? To be secret?..."

"Sneak..." He could hardly believe this conversation.

"Yes, I don't want to sneak.  You are adult; I am adult.  I want to be honest with them. They said of course."

He put his head in his hands.  "Oh my god."

"What? What was wrong with what I did? Do you think they would rather have their thirty year old son sneak through his sister's bathroom and then sneak back? Why is being truthful not good here?  I don't think they care about any of this as much as you do--and Elena--my god, it was as if we were going to kill them if they knew that we are something other than just partners, just siblings.  It didn't kill them.  It wasn't a secret.  They weren't surprised.  And I'm sorry if I fucked it up.  I'm just..." She put her hand on her forehead and ducked her head down.

"No, Luba..."

"It's just--how insulting. That Bryce would think that I...that I thought I had to have sex with you in order for you to want to skate with me?  It's so...that I would allow...auh!" She typed furiously on her phone and then turned the screen and thrust it in his face. "Exploited!  He thought that I would allow me...myself to be exploited for a skating partner!"

"No, no, no, no, Luba, come here," He pulled her over and put his arms around her, bringing her head into his chest.  She was crying hot, angry tears.  "That's not what he was getting at.  And I got the same speech, okay?  He's concerned..."

"Does he think I would sleep with someone I didn't want to, like I was...?"

"No, no, no.  He was trying to make sure you...he was trying to protect you.  He...he feels responsible for you."

"I am not a child!  It's the money, right?  I will do whatever to help with the money.  I stress about the money all the time, but that isn't why..."

"I know, Luba, listen, you are absolutely right about my parents.  You did the right thing.  You are more adult than me in a lot of ways, okay? It's true.  And Bryce is off base..."

"Dylan, I like you a lot.  I have liked you...for a long time.  But tomorrow if you decide you just want to skate, that's okay.  It was okay before, and it will be okay.  We won't have to break up as partners."

He breathed in and out. "Luba."

"What?" She turned her tear-soaked face to him.  He smiled at her.

"I like you, too.  I like you a whole lot.  This will all be fine.  You were so great.  I will come home with you some during the week, that will be nice.  You can stay in the city with me on the weekends.  Bryce can fuck himself, okay?" He caressed her wet cheeks.  "Come here," he kissed her gently.

"I'm sorry, this is crazy," she sighed.  "We are so late."

"It's fine.  We're never late. Come on." He took her under his arm and they walked up the steps together.  "Hey, I got a text from Eric. He said he saw the travel plans for Korea, and that he's rooming with Paul Poirier, and I'm with Andrew.  Do you know anything about that?"

"Kaitlyn asked if we could room together...I said sure."

"I always room with Eric."

"Well, now you room with Andrew. You like Andrew."

"I do like Andrew, it's just Eric and Paul...I don't know.  Paul can be a bit much."

Luba smiled.  "Meagan can be more than a bit much."

"That's true, but..."

"I want to stay with Kaitlyn, and she already said we can switch rooms so we can play sneak around and don't be honest for Skate Canada." She looked at him pointedly.  "I don't think Meagan and Eric would play that game with us, do you?"

"Meagan and Piper, though?"

"I think that's not our problem."

They had reached the locker rooms.

"Well, good talk, Luba!" He laughed and she punched him in the arm.  He grabbed her, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head.  "See you in a minute."

She side kicked his ass and disappeared behind the door.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Luba**

**February 2015**

 

Most mornings Luba rode into Toronto before seven with Norman.  They would creep along the crunchy streets layered with ice and new snow before they hit the highway, which was usually in the process of being cleared.  They drove east into the sun when it was out, which was most mornings.  Winter was different in Moscow and yet it was still endless here, in spite of being brighter and filled with people who seemed generally less miserable, although Luba was beginning to suspect this was somewhat a facade. 

Luba and Norman sipped on their coffees from their travel mugs and didn't talk much. The CBC radio news was always on, and Luba felt better informed than she had in her whole life thanks to those quiet, clam voices from the radio. She had loads of questions for Norman.  She had surmised that he was a general surgeon, perhaps like Dr. Weber on _Grey's Anatomy_ , but when she asked him about the show, he chuckled and told her not to believe everything she saw on TV.  She respected his reserved personality and didn't inquire further. 

She would watch him, though, out of the corner of her eye, each morning as the man and woman on the radio told of awful things in the Middle East and potential labor unrest here in Canada.   Elena was a clone of Julia, and Sasha and Kyra were hybrids of both parents.  Dylan, though, was all Norman.  They had the same jaw line, the same texture of hair, the same way of smiling when a private thought broke through.  Dylan was louder and had a broader sense of humor.  Dylan was much more of an extrovert, although Norman wasn't shy; he and Elena had a very similar temperament, Luba had observed.

The week before she and Dylan were to leave for Korea, the CBC did a series of stories each morning about _Red Army_ , a documentary on the Soviet national hockey team of the 1970s.  Norman would sit up straighter in his seat and turn the volume up slightly, and they would listen intently, not discussing anything about it but clearly both very interested. 

On Friday, Norman pulled into the Cricket Club parking lot as always. Luba leaned over and squeezed his arm in a one sided half hug like she did every morning.

"Thank you!" She said.

"Have a good day, Sweetie," he said. "Luba," he added, altering their morning routine.

"Yes?"

"That movie, _Red Army_ is playing in the city.  I found times for tomorrow night.  Maybe you and Dylan and Julia and I could take in an early show?"

"Yes! I would love that!"

"Okay, we can go for Chinese after," Norman suggested, turning up the collar of his jacket against the cold.

Luba loved the movie and Chinese outing they had done at Christmas.  "Yes, I can't wait!" She blew him a little kiss, shut the car door hustled into the club, waving as he drove out.

She jumped with Nam for an hour before Dylan showed up looking cold and sleepy.  She skated over to the boards to retrieve him and kissed his cheek.

"You're perky this morning," he said.  "Last day excitement?"

"Yes!" She said and laughed.  Their flight to Korea was early Sunday afternoon. She was already packed. They hadn't made plans for tonight, but she assumed she would go back home on the train alone and meet up some time Saturday. "And your father asked us on a date for tomorrow!"

"Really?" Dylan laughed.

"Yes, for movie and Chinese with him and Julia."

"Wow.  What are we seeing?"

Luba explained about the documentary.

"Okay, well that's weird and interesting.  You're staying over after, right?  We can go to the airport together."

"Yes, of course." They were skating leisurely around the ice waiting for Lee to call them over.  Luba had looped her arm in Dylan's and was patting his bicep. They caught a glimpse of Lee and sped up their stroking.

Lee gave them rather a light day, and they did yoga and then strength in the afternoon before massages and calling it a day.  Luba made it home in time for dinner.  It was Norman's last night of call, so she and Julia ate turkey burgers in front of the TV.  The week before they had started on season one of _Downton Abbey_ \--a rewatch for Julia, but the first time for Luba.  Luba wasn't really an artist, but she had always passed the time by sketching dresses, and Lady Sybil was taking over her notebook. 

She went to bed early, but was occupied with a group text between Alex and the two Kaitl(i)yns, and occasional grumpy texts from Dylan.

 **Luba** :  One more load, you can do it!

 **Dylan** :  Ugh.  I have too much shit. 

 **Luba** :  I'm not packing for you.

 **Dylan** :  Please?

 **Luba** :  Forget it.  See you at 1.

 **Dylan** :  Fine.

She finally drifted off and slept like a rock.  She ate a leisurely breakfast and did a last luggage check before Julia dropped her off at the train station.

"Are you sure I can't just drive you in?"

"No, you and Norman are driving later.  The train is fine."

It was a lot of stuff for the train, but it was pretty empty on Saturday morning, and a mass transit employee helped her store it.  Dylan met her at the down town station.

 "How does all of your stuff fit in that bag?" He asked her incredulously.

"I thought it was huge!"

"No."

"Garment bag and skates are still at the club," she reminded him.

"Oh, I know.  It's going to be a haul."

"We can leave my suitcase in the car for tomorrow.  I have everything I need in my bag."

They headed to the Cricket to skate  modified run-throughs and pack their skates.

"I have two USA coins for good luck," she told Dylan.  "Do you want Alabama or Alaska?"

"Quarters," he told her.  "I'll take Alabama."  They stowed the coins in their skate bags.

Luba showered and changed into jeans, boots and a red sweater for their date.  She curled her hair and added silver loops Kyra had given her to match her L charm.  Dylan was waiting for her outside the locker room looking his usual natty self, freshly shaved with damp hair.  He was utterly irresistible.  Anyway, the place was deserted so she planted a kiss on his mouth, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Ready? You look great," he said.

"You look too good," she teased him.

"You wanna call this off and go back to the condo?"

"Not a chance.  I want to see the movie!"

"Okay, your choice."

Norman and Julia were waiting for them in the lobby.  Luba chose a seat next to Norman so they could whisper.  There was only one other couple in the theater, but they tried to keep it down.  Luba teared up twice out of nostalgia for Russia and for Papa who was a rabid fan.  For the first time she felt pointedly that Norman wasn't enough, that as wonderful as he was, he wasn't Papa.  Julia had moved into more of a friend role in her life, and Luba had stopped thinking of her a substitute Mama, but Norman was a different story.  She dried her eyes with her hands and felt instantly guilty.  She patted Norman's arm although she doubted he had any clue what she was thinking.  He gripped her lower arm and squeezed gently.

The restaurant was just a few blocks from the theater.  Norman ordered generously for all of them, and they settled in with a pot of tea.  Luba and Norman talked over each other to fill in Julia and Dylan of all the details from the radio stories.  It was clear the other two weren't quite so taken with the film, but they were good sports.

"Luba, how old were you when the Soviet Union...ceased to be?" Julia asked her.

"Right when I was born, in that time.  It started a few months before.  My parents questioned the wisdom of...bringing a baby into the world with such uncertainty, but my sister was already three."

"What is their opinion about the whole change?"

"I think they are like most--it was a disaster then and a somewhat different disaster now. But sports are something to be really proud of.  I want to be Canadian citizen and then help them come here. We haven't talked about it, but that's what I hope." It was the first time she had ever said the words out loud.  She looked down at her tea, and Dylan put his arm around her shoulders.

When the food arrived, the topic switched to the upcoming trip and championships.

"Well, Nationals was great," Norman said.  "The crowd loved you, the judges loved you, and this one," he pointed his thumb to Luba, "Avoided getting into a brawl."

"Oh my God!" Luba said laughing with her hand over her mouth.

"Norman!" Julia gasped.

"Dad!" Dylan said and looked at Luba.  "You heard about that?"

Kirsten had been in the middle of a scene two years before at Nationals when the police were called to break up a drunken fight between her boyfriend at the time and another skater who was hitting on her. It had made the gossip rounds in the Russian skating circles.

"Yes, Russians were happy not to be in the middle of the skating scandal that time," Luba laughed.

"Well, I could have died," Julia said, not laughing.  Luba put on a straight face immediately. 

"I was asleep.  Missed the whole thing," Dylan added.

"Thank goodness!" Julia said.

"Anyway, what are your chances next week?" Norman redirected the conversation.

Dylan took a breath before responding.  "Of course, we just want to skate our best."

"Yes," Luba backed him up.

"But...it will be bad if we're not at least sixth.  We have to beat Kirsten and Marinaro, two of the American teams and the Japanese team.  Then of course it would be great to beat the top American team--they have a quad twist all of a sudden, so that's tough.  We could potentially beat one of the Chinese teams, but it would take major mistakes from them.  Eric and Meagan are not beatable at this point."

Luba nodded her head.

"So what would be different if you were still with Kirsten? What would your prospects be?"

Dylan shot his dad a look that clearly said, _are you kidding me_?

"Norman!" Julia said yet again.

"It's okay, is a good question," Luba jumped in.

"Luba and I don't sugarcoat things," Norman winked at her.  "You people think this gal is a fragile flower, but I'm telling you, she's tougher than us all," Luba patted his hand.

"You don't have to sell me on Luba, Dad." Dylan was not trying hard to mask his annoyance.

"I think they would be contending for bronze," Luba said to Norman.

"I think we'd be a long shot.  It's hard to say exactly what our tech would have been because we were just starting the process when it ended, but assuming the programs are what they ended up being, probably fourth or fifth, again depending on the Chinese.  We probably beat the Americans on PCS.  I think the short could have been pretty good..."

"If you were doing the turn split entry with Kirsten it would be..." Luba made a rapturous expression and gesture.

Dylan smiled at her.  "I think that we could have turned that into something good..."

"The song is soooo great!" Luba said.

"Luba is a big fan of _Chicago_ ," Dylan laughed.

Julia and Norman gave diplomatic smiles.

"But the long program is a mess and pretty much a retread of the Queen program.  Kirsten and I might have hit our limit anyway.  I'm closer to a quad throw with Luba than I ever was with Kirsten."

"We _will_ have a quad throw," Luba assured the table.

They had finished eating, and Dylan took her hand under the table and laced his fingers through hers.  They sat quietly contented for a few moments, pre-competition analysis being complete.

"Well, you should probably be off.  Travel day tomorrow," Julia looked like she was fighting tears.

"Mom, seriously, we'll be back in a week," Dylan said.  They scooted out of the booth and Luba hugged Norman and then Julia.

"Good luck, you two!  I'm sure you'll do great." Norman led the group to the door.  It was snowing yet again, and Dylan took Luba under his arm as they rushed to the car.

They drove slowly back to the condo through busy Saturday night traffic.

"You finish packing?"

"Almost.  Have to fold that last load.  I already have more than you. But my clothes are bigger."

Luba laughed and rolled her eyes.

"We don't have to leave until ten anyway.  Plenty of time."

Bryce's car was gone from the covered parking area, which put Dylan instantly in a great mood.  He pulled her in for a kiss as soon as they were inside the door. Luba made them stop and hang up their coats on the hooks and shake out their snowy shoes, and then let Dylan continue.  When they weren't sharing living space on a daily basis, he often had a sense of urgency about their sexual encounters.  He would pick her up, press her desperately to him, take off her top like he was staking his claim, ravish her.  For a Canadian, he was quite the vanquisher.  She thought perhaps it was the Moscovitch in him.

It was flattering and exciting and it made her insist on boarding that train alone most nights and leaving him with that slightly sad, _you could just stay_ expression.

It was not the way she thought of him, though, in these moments.  When he grasped her to him and lifted her feet off the ground, she pictured one of those rotational lifts the ice dancers do--that Kaitlyn and Andrew do--with one arm wrapped around each other and one arm above their heads, hands intertwined.  Her legs in a stag leaf and her long, gorgeous, curly hair billowing behind her as she arched her back and he pressed his mouth to her clavicle. 

He would laugh and laugh if she told him this, so she didn't say a word.  She kept taking mental photographs, though.  Every muscle in his chest and arms was captured as she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it away.  An invisible wind machine make the shirt tail fly, so wispy beside him. 

His exigency continued, though.  By they time they crashed through his bedroom door, she was naked except for jeans and boots.  She freed herself from him, teased him by giving him a peck on the mouth and then ran to the bathroom and shut the door.

"Really?"

"Patience!" She called back through the door.

She unzipped each boot and removed it. She peeled off her jeans, leaving her scanty underwear for him and looked at her reflection.  Her hair was a disappointment, but otherwise, not bad. She brushed her teeth really quickly against garlic chicken breath and then opened the door to find him waiting for her in the bed.  She scampered in under the blanket, and spread her hands all over his chest.

"You are too beautiful to rush so much," she scolded him, and he responded by crashing his mouth into hers.

She let him take over as that was obviously what he wanted.  In the morning it would be her turn, and she would stretch it out as long as possible.  Within a few moments, anyway, he had her completely undone and incapable of mental commentary.  She had one fleeting image of her ice dancers being fucked into oblivion, and then it was all skin and heat and urgency.

Afterward she stretched out on him and resumed her silent photography. If this all went away tomorrow, she would always have the images, these feelings.  It was really real. She was in this room lying with this man in his arms.  She was swirling her finger around his nipple.

"So, you think sixth is optimistic?" He asked her, and she resisted the urge to smack him.  She really didn't want to let on what she was thinking about.

"No. Fourth is optimistic."

"Yeah," he laughed. "It is."

"We have to beat Kirsten and Michael...obviously."

He didn't respond but made a disgusted little noise in his throat.

"What was it like in Waterloo without your family and your friends here? With that coach and with...not being friends really with Kirsten?  When Kyra moved back here?"

"Well, I have friends in Waterloo.  Not ones I'm particularly close to at the moment, but I always had friends.  And you know my mom. Every time she had a day off, she would be up there with bags of food."

"Yes, you have great mom.  I don't know why you are always _mom is so annoy_."

"Annoying."

"Annoying," she repeated.

"You're right, of course.  Anyway, I guess I'm an idiot because I liked the work Kirsten and I did.  I didn't really care that we weren't best friends."

"But she told people she wanted another partner..."

"And could I blame her? I couldn't land a jump in competition to save my life in 2012."

Luba felt hot around her eyes and then tears welling up before she could stop them.

"What, Luba?" He sounded concerned.

"The sex was just that good," she said, wiping her eyes.

"It was pretty great," he laughed.

"I obviously..." She tried to express herself clearly.  "They said that to me... _you couldn't land a jump to save your life_.  You get...reduced to...not just your skating life...to that one skill."

"Okay, but Luba, we're not talking life and death here.  I know it's a different situation in Russia, but even there...you had options outside of elite level pair skating. We're not owed the opportunity...  If Kirsten thought she could do better with someone else, or whatever reason, that's her prerogative."

"You sound like Elena."

"Well, you know..."

"And anyway, I just cry because I can't imagine someone saying it to you. Or anyone thinking that you weren't..."

Dylan pulled her up so he could kiss her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

_Because I love you!_

It was ringing around in her head.  She put her fingers on her lips to keep it from coming out.

"Tomorrow is going to suck!" Dylan said.  "I still have shit to pack," he sighed.

"Go to sleep.  We'll pack in the morning." She kissed his cheek and nestled in under his arm.

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Dylan**

**February 2015**

 

Lee was waiting for them at the gate.  The seats were filled mostly with skaters and coaches.  Nam's mom was traveling with him due to his age.  Kirsten was practically sitting on Liam Firus's lap.  Dylan saw Luba's eyebrows raise slightly.  Kirsten called out a cheery greeting.

"Hey," Dylan returned.

"Hey," Luba echoed.  Kirsten had posted pictures of side-by-side triples on her Instagram just about every day for the last week.  She wasn't subtle.  Luba was over it.

Their seats were in the last row, and it was just the two of them.  It was nice to be able to duck into the back, but they realized they would see everyone on the way to the bathroom. At least there was no one behind them.  They took turns ducking into the lavatory to change into their pajamas and then laughed that they had both brought their animal onesies from Christmas.  The penguin and the lamb take on Korea.

"So she's not with Marinaro?" Luba asked him under her breath.  Kirsten and Liam were getting settled in a few rows up.

"I guess not.  It's hard to tell most of the time.  I gave up trying to figure it all out years ago."

"That's going to make it hard for Alex and Mitch."

"Not really.  Liam is rooming with Jeremy Ten, so Marinaro and Liam just switch and it all works out." Luba looked at him, clearly impressed.  "The players change, but the game has been the same for years," he laughed.  "It used to be mostly for the various guys, though.  Surely it's the same in Russia."

"Well, not with the guys, at least not openly."

"Yeah, that's ridiculous."

"Agree."

"Don't agree.  Let's debate.  It will help pass the time."

"We could debate 2002 pairs again," she suggested.

"Nah, played out.  Plus you're probably right on that one."

"Wow."

"Don't get used to it."

 The plane took off with a jolt, and he took her hand. It was shaking.

"Nervous?" He asked her.

"Yes."

"Take-off?"

"No," she laughed.  "About the competition."

Kirsten's laughed peeled.  Apparently Firus was hilarious. 

"Don't let her get in your head," Dylan told Luba quietly.

"I don't need Princess Kirsten to get in my head.  I'm in there already.  I'm more...horrible than her."

"What do you mean?"

"I am meaner to me...to myself than her with her jump videos and her smile."

"Well, stop that!"

"Okay!" she laughed.  "Anyway, it wouldn't seem like a competition without Kirsten and Marinaro at practice and in dressing room.  Worlds is going to be different.  I'm studying my French so I can talk to Julianne and Charlie."

"They both speak perfect English."

"I know, but that's no fun.  You should study French, and we have a dinner with them in Shanghai."

"Maybe we should get through this one first."

"Yes, of course. We have plans with everyone from Detroit."

"Well, just tell me what time to show up and what to wear."

"Okay.  And if you want plans with Eric or anyone, that's fine," she laughed.

"I'm sure Eric will tag along to the all people of Detroit events."

"Of course, of course he can.  All invited.  Meagan, Piper, Paul..."

Luba had downloaded an entire season of a Russian soap opera to her laptop and was getting comfortable curled up with her legs under her. 

"There are English subtitles if you want a headphone," she offered.

"That's okay. I have a book." Inspired by their long program, Dylan had started reading the James Bond novels.  He read two chapters before he drifted off.  On Luba's computer screen a woman with a really bad dye job was crying by a pond.  He woke up later having no idea how long he had been asleep, but the plane was mostly dark, and people had settled in.  Luba wasn't watching her show any longer but was typing in Russian at a fast clip.

"What are you doing?" He asked her groggily.

"Writing a better proposal for pairs program.  Our pairs program," she corrected herself.  "I'm using research from my thesis I wrote last year.  My paper was positive methods to train young athletes.  Most of the research is Russian studies, so I'm using some of my sources, but I'm going to add some North American..." as she searched for the word she rolled her hands around each other in a gesture that was becoming familiar to him, "articles.  Canadian and American articles.  Studies.  Academic papers," she finally found what she wanted and gave a satisfied smile.  "I'm going to ask Rachel if she will help me access the University of Toronto database."

"And this will be addressed to...?"

"Cricket Club," she said, a bit exasperated.  "I'm writing in Russian because it's easier to get my thoughts the way I want them, and then I'll translate to English, and Elena told me she would...check..."

"Proofread."

"Yes!"

"You've talked to Elena about this?"

"Yes, is that bad?"

"No," he laughed.  "I'm just surprised it's the first I'm hearing about it."

"I didn't want to tell you until I finish. Then I would present it, and you would be so impressed."

"I am impressed, but Luba I don't want you to get your hopes up about this."  The Cricket Club management hadn't been enthusiastic the first time she had brought this up, and she had put it all in writing that time, too.

"Why would they not want this?  What would be the worry?  You want to work with kids? You are getting teaching degree--with my psychology and your education..."

She pronounced it _ed oo cation_ in her earnest way, and he wanted to laugh, but he contained himself. "I do. I want to teach or coach..."

"I have dreams.  We could be something.  We could be Moskvin and Moskvina of Canada. Not married...not what I mean," She turned crimson but carried on, "Toronto could be world class pairs program.  All countries send their pairs to us, and then Skate Canada make them go home because we only train Canadians in Olympic years," she had a big smile at that.

"Or they let it slide like Orser," he winked at her.

"Yes, Canada not like Russian Federation," she sighed.  "We could be the Moscovitch Iliushechkina School. You can be first.  Sounds better. But can't happen...won't happen unless we plan, and unless we make it..."

Lee wandered up the isle and stopped by their row. "What are you two plotting?"

"Pairs school," Luba answered as if she had discussed it thoroughly with him before.

"I'm all for it," he looked at the screen.  "Is that the new proposal?"

"Yes, needs Canadian research, though," Dylan told him dryly.

"You know we're going to be working for her pretty soon," Lee said.

"That seems inevitable."

"Not working for me.  All working together," Luba was emphatic as she made circles with her hands to indicated their group.  "And Bryce," she allowed, defrosting somewhat on that subject.  Such a serious little lamb.

He pictured her in forty years skating around all bundled up like tiny Moskvina with her pairs.  He wanted to be there with them.  He could imagine a much worse life. 

"We have a few more years of skating ourselves," he reminded her.

"And that's why I want to get the pairs school started with the little kids, years before they would actually compete.  So many students and their moms would like to have pairs skills.  For them to have skills. Then when we finish, they are ready to start compete...competing."

"All they can say is no, and then it's probably time to start looking for a new location," Lee said.  "If not for us to train, at least for you to start this project." 

Dylan was surprised that Lee was taking this so seriously and felt bad about dismissing this as a Luba dream.

"But let's get through this season first," Lee patted Dylan's back and continued toward the restrooms. 

"Of course," Luba said.  She saved her work and closed the screen.  "Of course I'm most focused on this season," she sounded like she was trying to reassure him.  "On our skating."

"I know.  You don't have to prove to me that you're dedicated."

She stored her laptop and settled in more comfortably in her seat. "How long do we have left?"

"Should be about three hours."

"That's not too bad."

"Did you get tired of your show?"

"Yes...mindless," she said, digging for a book in her bag and producing _Pride and Prejudice_.

"How many times have you read that?"

"Only a few times in English," she laughed quietly and settled in against him.  He put his arm around her and closed his eyes again.

He woke up because a familiar voice was right by his head.  His dreams were muddled for a few minutes before he regained consciousness.  Kirsten was whispering right next to him.

"I'm just so glad for you guys.  I really just wanted him to be happy."

He kept his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep to defend against this particular kind of bullshit.  Kirsten must have continued on to the bathroom and Luba snuggled in closer again.

The next thing he knew, landing instructions were being squawked over head, and Luba was gathering their things.  There were lights outside as far as he could see.  It was just after seven on Monday night in Seoul, which made it about six in the morning in Toronto.

The Canadian group was subdued through customs. All of the bags arrived, so there were no delays.  The shuttle to the hotel was over an hour.  Luba looked exhausted.

"Are you going to be able to eat anything before you crash?" Dylan asked her.  Their nutritionist had excoriated him for their eating plan in Poland because Luba had lost four pounds.  _What were you thinking?_   She had given them a list of food poisoning risks but had instructed them to eat three regular meals, four if Luba was hungry for it, nothing out of packages for the trip.  Luba was restricted to one cup of coffee a day.

"Of course, I have to eat," Luba was obviously remembering the same lecture.  "I really want breakfast, so I hope there are eggs available."  She looked absolutely wrecked.  "Talk to me so I don't fall asleep."

"You and Kirsten had a talk?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled.  "Knew you weren't asleep.  I talked to Paul for a long time.  He and I were the only ones awake on the plane  for an hour or so.  He is very smart. Very educated.  I talked to everyone on their way to the restroom.  This city is so beautiful."  Her thoughts were exhaustion rattled.

"Stay awake, you've almost made it."

Check in was lovely, and the bags were brought to the rooms while the team was taken to the very nice hotel restaurant, which offered any kind of meal they wanted.  Luba managed to eat about half of her breakfast before she looked like she would fall asleep right at the table.

"Kaitlyn and Andrew and all of the Detroit people are delayed a whole day," he told her. 

"That's terrible."

"Plane issues."

"Get your bag and come to my room," she suggested.

"Okay.  If I can't sleep, I'll go back to mine, so don't be freaked out if you wake up alone."

"Okay."

The rooms were large and beautiful with huge windows.  He took a shower first thing in the big, modern bathroom.  Luba was passed out on the bed in a t-shirt and underwear.  It looked like she had been in the process of putting on pajamas when she lost the battle.  He scooped her up and got her under the covers, and she murmured something in Russian.

"What?" He laughed softly.

"I need to brush my teeth," she whispered.

"They'll be fine."  She fell back asleep, snuggled into the blanket.  He read for a while and then drifted off himself.  He woke in the middle of the night but didn't want to leave her.  The wifi was fantastic, so he took his laptop to the table and caught up.  She woke at sunrise.

"You get an A+ in international travel, Lubinsky."

"Yay, I like to get As.  I need shower and toothbrush, maybe not in that order.  Don't smell me," she hustled into the bathroom with her toiletries.

He gave her a few minutes and then joined her. She had her face tilted into the spray of the shower.  Her smiled took over her face when she saw him and melted her body into hers as soon as he stepped in. She smelled wonderful and irresistible, and he was already hard from thinking about her in the shower and biding his time. She climbed on him with her legs clamped around his waist and pressed her mouth into his and groaned into it.

"I wanted to take you to the plane bathroom, but couldn't do it secretly.  Nam's mama kept looking at me," Luba said.

Dylan laughed.  "That hasn't stopped people before, but yeah, plane sex is tricky with the whole federation on board."

"Thank you Kaitlyn and Andrew, sorry Kaitlyn and Andrew," Luba said and hoisted herself up again so she was pressed against the tip of his cock.  The was a step in the back of the shower and he placed her on it so he could fuck her from behind.  She hitched up one leg and grabbed his hand and brought it around against her.  He rubbed circles as he fucked her and she cried out as she came and thrusted back against him, which made him come with a long moan.  She turned around, and they held each other until the water turned cool.

They had practice that morning, so they hustled around to get ready.  Dylan sat with his phone while Luba finished hair and makeup.

"Eric and Meagan arrived two hours ago," he told her. 

"That's terrible!"

"They're going straight to practice."

"Ugh,"  grabbed her bag.  "We have time for breakfast two before the shuttle.  Unless you want lunch."

"No, breakfast.  The sooner I get the right schedule..."

"Traveling east is never a problem for me.  Traveling west kills me."

They joined Lee at the breakfast table.  A very grumpy looking Kris Wirtz was across the room with Kirsten busy on her phone and Marinaro chatting nonstop.  Dylan gave a smirky salute Wirtz's direction and Kris shot him a look that said _save me_. No, thanks.  Luba found the Korean equivalent of oatmeal and looked very happy with her coffee.  After the meal, they caught the bus with the Waterloo contingent.  Kris sat directly behind him.

"You guys ready?" He asked them.

"I guess we'll see," Dylan said.

"Ready!" Luba said.  "Excited."

"That's good," Kris seemed depressed, but that was normal for him on these trips at this point in the season.  Lee so far just acted like their business manager, and Dylan was grateful for it.  The Eeyore act got really old.  He didn't want to feel responsible for his coach's emotional well being. 

The venue was only ten minutes away, thank goodness.  It was beautiful and modern and huge.  Dylan wondered how many fans were going to show up.  Korea wasn't Japan in terms of skating enthusiasm.  It was close to Japan, though, and he had already heard from some Japanese fans that were making the trip.  All of a sudden he was excited and nervous for a major competition.  It was a different feeling than for Nationals.  This was the big time again.

He saw Eric as soon as he entered the locker room.

"Tell me about the rooms," Eric said.  He looked awful.

"Amazing.  Just get through practice."

Even Meagan looked wiped out, and she usually only had one setting.  They were great in practice, though.  Luba and Dylan skated full-out, too, and hit all of their elements.  Kirsten and Mike looked sharp as well.

After they ran their short with the music, they ran through a few elements from the long program.  It was satisfying to hear all the clicks from the cameras as Luba hit her position in the lifts.  They jumped successfully, ran the twist, mediocre as always, and then ended with some throws.  Luba was triumphant landing a beautiful, high, suspended for days throw triple lutz that was just begging to be a quad.  She flung her arms out.

"Hello, Seoul!" she said and winked at him.

 

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Luba**

**February 2015**

 

She was stretched out on her bed with Alex and Kaitlyn and a massive box of Valentine candy.  Andrew was in the other bed pretending to be asleep.

"This is amazing," Alex said as she took the gold foil off a chocolate.  "We didn't get any candy."

"I'm sure it's from one of Dylan's Japanese fans who's in love with him," Luba told her.

Kaitlyn laughed, "Jealous?"

"Of course not." A little bit.  Dylan had thrust the box at her on the shuttle. _I won't eat this,_ he had told her flatly.

"Come with us," Alex whined to Luba.  "It will be so much fun."  All of the Detroit girls were going to dinner together.

"I can't, I have to go eat with Grumpy Cat and Lee."

 

Things had been so good up to the short program.  Even that hadn't been terrible.  She had a tiny two-foot on the Sal she was sure the controller saw, but the twist was not awful, not as bad as it was for the long, anyway.  She biffed his nose coming out of the lift, but it didn't seem to hurt.  Everything was fun and great until the marks came up.  That began the long grump.

He had hardly spoken to her on the way to the locker room and then had taken a seat rows away when they joined the crowd of skaters in the stands.  That was fine, she got to sit with the girls, including American Kaitlin, whom she hadn't seen since last summer, and Madison Chock, whom she hadn't met before this trip, but had liked immediately.  They were making plans to celebrate Evan Bates's birthday afterward, and had invited them along.  Someone had found a Mexican restaurant in Seoul.  
Katelyn, originally from Houston, thought it was going to be a disaster.

"You can't miss this," she implored.

But Dylan didn't want to go.  He was tired and preoccupied. 

"You said tell you what time and what to wear.  It's Mexican.  Casual. We leave in an hour."

She walked away with him whining. She returned to her room and got ready with Katelyn.  She had braided Luba's hair for the short program, and it still looked great.  She took down the knot and curled it.  She borrowed an off the shoulder top from Alex, which made her miss Kyra. They piled in taxis, and Luba ended up on Jean-Luc's lap.  Dylan was in the adult car with Andrew, Meagan and Eric.

Luba was usually one of the adults, too.  She certainly felt like it around the other Ontario folks, but this was a party.  Sigh.

The food was delicious, and although Katelyn snarked a bit about it, Luba didn't have much experience with Mexican food to base a judgement on.  It seemed great to her.  They shared three desserts among a dozen skaters.  Luba had two unbelievably good bites of something gooey and chocolate.  She dragged Dylan to the bar for their shots.  The selection of vodka was the best she had seen since she had left Moscow.  She choose her favorite and ordered two.

"Drink!" She ordered.

"Ugh," he said but shot it down.

"You are getting better at that."

"Always growing and improving."

"Exactly," she said and kissed him on the cheek. 

The shot and maybe the kiss thawed him a bit, and he pulled her into the adult car and his lap for the ride home.  Andrew was sleeping in his own bed tonight, so they said goodbye at her door.

"Just try to enjoy, to enjoy tomorrow, okay?" She implored him.

"I will try.  Get some sleep." He kissed her sweetly, and she hugged him standing on her tip-toes.

Katelyn was putting on her pajamas.  "In love again?"

"Oh, I guess," but Luba couldn't stop her smile. "How do you feel about tomorrow?"  Katelyn and Andrew were in third after the short, but it was practically a tie.

"I'm nervous.  We need to win, and we need a good score going into Worlds.  This is not where we were supposed to be," she sighed. 

"Your free dance is the best, the BEST." Luba hugged her. 

She slept well. They got up early and ordered breakfast in the room.  In spite of Dylan's reaction, she had felt good about their short.  She couldn't get too wrapped up in the marks.  She got to work on her hair.  She and Tracy had decided on a messier knot with the pearl pins.  They had found a picture of Kiera Knightly in _Pride and Prejudice_ they both loved and were trying to reference it.  It was supposed to look less severe than at Nationals.  She took a picture of the finished product and sent it to Tracy and Kyra.

Luba had a practice before the the free dances, then it would be their turn.  She met Dylan for the shuttle after the dancers had all left. 

"Okay?" She asked him.

"Fine, sorry."

They were still with Kirsten and Marinaro for practice.  Kirsten did a series of triples right in front of her, which made Dylan swear under his breath.

"Don't care. Doesn't matter,"  she tried to reassure him. The American couple was aggressive, too, and Dylan and Luba had to fight for space, even during their music.

"Assholes," Dylan said, a little louder.  It left them feeling not as confident in spite of their elements being fine.  Lee told them they had to put it behind them, but Dylan was back to his previous mood. They watched the free dances tensely in the green room on the monitor.  Kaitlin and Jean-Luc took Luba's breath away.  Mitch had a freak fall, but he and Alex skated beautifully in spite of it.  Katelyn and Andrew were victorious.  Luba jumped around the green room in celebration and hugged Meagan.  

As soon as the dance medal ceremony was over, it was time for pairs.  They were in the second group and had to wait through three couples before it was their turn.  It was nerve wracking, but the warm-up went well.  Luba put her head down back stage and visualized getting enough height in those jumps and clearing Dylan's shoulder in the twist.  Finally, it was time for them to skate.

She two-footed the triple toe just a bit.  Sigh.  Let it go.  The twist was low and crashy.  Sigh.  Let it go.  The Sal was beautiful.  Triumph!  The dolphin entry was awkward, but they got it up.  Too far forward on the throw.  Little two foot on the other.  Everything was a little bit messy and not their best.  She played that role, though, and so did he.  She tripped getting into the closing pose.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"I know.  I'm sorry."

"Was both of us.  It's okay."

They tried to keep up the energy for the bows, she put on a big smile for Lee.

Dylan was saying something about the lift, but she was just trying to smile, smile.  Lee hugged her.

"It was fine, Luba.  It was really nice."

"Thank you."

They watched the play back on the monitor.  Lee had nothing but nice things to say, especially about the triple Sals.  The marks were up quick, and Dylan was annoyed and disappointed.

"Sorry," she told him again.

"Just stop," he told her.  Kirsten and Marinaro were skating and struggling.  Kirsten fell out of a throw, and Luba cringed. 

They changed and made their way to the stands before the last group.  She gave Dylan space.  They cheered for all the pairs but were thrilled when Meagan and Eric won.  Dylan and Luba were sixth; disaster avoided.

 

"Dylan is far from the grumpiest cat," Katelyn laughed and looked to Andrew.

"I'm not as grumpy as you," he replied with his eyes still closed.

"Oh, please!" Katelyn protested.

"Short dance.  That's all I'm going to say." Andrew opened his eyes and turned on his side to face the girls.  "Toss me a chocolate," he asked Alex, who complied.

"Okay, but breakfast, shuttle, practice, green room, that's all _I'm_ going to say."

"No one should be grumpy.  We're in Korea in the beautiful hotel and skating.  Not fighting a war," Luba said lightly.

"You didn't come with a grumpy setting, did you?" Alex laughed.

"Not really," Luba admitted.  "So I come from a place that is grumpy all of the time.  I just had enough and don't want to deal with it any more."  Luba looked at all of them with a little smile.  "Plus what does Canadians have to be grumpy about really?  It's like a Mama says to the crying baby, 'I'll show you grumpy.'"  She laughed.

"All right, all right, Mary Poppins," Andrew said.  Alex beaned him with a chocolate to the head.

"Well, we have to go," Katelyn glanced at her phone.  "Kaitlin and Maia are waiting for us in the lobby.  Are you sure you can't make an excuse to Lee and Grumpy Cat?"

"Better not.  You have fun, though," Luba sighed and got her coat and bag. 

Dylan had texted her to meet him in his room.  She walked the group to the elevator and then on to Dylan's room.  He answered right after her knock and pulled her in the room.

"Sorry, Luba.  I'm over it, I promise." He pulled her into his arms.

She was confused.  The table was cleaned off, and Dylan had a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Lee's not coming to dinner.  It's just us.  Is that okay?"

"Of course."

He led her to the chair and handed her a small red bag.

"Nothing exciting," he warned.

She pulled out two shot glasses with Korean flags.  "I love them.  I was looking at them..."

"I know.  I saw you.  Happy Valentines."

She scooted over to him, sat on his lap, and kissed him.

"Thank you.  You are my Valentine?"

"Of course, if you'll put up with me."

"I'll try."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed with the 4CC timeline. Sorry.


	28. Chapter 28

**Luba**

**February 2015**

 

Two days back from Korea, not even over the jet lag yet, and she was moving again.  Amy, an adult skater from the Cricket, and her friend since she arrived in Toronto had come to her with an idea.

"It's ridiculous how much time you spend commuting.  I live two miles from here, I have an extra room, move in with me!"

"I can't afford..."

"You can pay me in lessons.  Three times a week after your class.  Will's in college, Sophie will be next year, I could use the company."

Amy, a divorced real estate agent was a fixture at the club.  She was there almost every day to skate, but she also helped run all of the special programs and social events.  She was everyone's favorite. Luba couldn't have pulled off the Christmas show without her help.

She hated to leave Julia and Norman, but this would be such a time saver.  The gym and dance studio were between the club and Amy's house, and there was a bus line that connected all of it.  It was perfect.  Amy invited her over for dinner so they could hash out the details.

"Sophie goes to her dad's on the weekends.  When I'm dating someone, I only have him over when she's not here," Amy was really good at the subtle rule lay down.

"That's not a problem," Luba said feeling herself blush. 

Amy laughed.  "I love Dylan, and he's welcome to stay over on the weekends and come over for dinner any time."

"Does everyone know that..."

"You're together?  Pretty much.  There are very few secrets."

Dylan picked her up after the gym to drive her back and discuss the potential move.

"Other than lack of privacy, which you already have in your current situation, I don't see any down sides," he said.

"I'll miss your parents. They are very nice to live with."

"We'll still see them all the time."

So for about the twelfth time since her arrival in North America, she was packing and moving.  Dylan called it a gypsy life, which indicated he hadn't had a lot of contact with real gypsies, but she understood what he meant.  She had accumulated quite a bit of stuff, lots of books, especially, during her stay with the Moscovitches, and this was the most extensive move.  Julia helped her pack all of her things in boxes, and they loaded up the car.  

"I'll never be able to thank you..." Luba felt pressure in her throat and chest and felt hot tears behind her eyes.

"We will miss you so much," Julia was emotional as well.  "You've been a blessing for us, Luba.  It's so hard with all of the kids out of the house. But..." she cleared her throat, "this will be so much better for you.  The commute wears you down after a while, and you need to spend your energy on training."

Luba settled in to her new room.  It was smaller than than the one at Julia and Norman's and she shared a small bathroom with Sophie, who didn't seem thrilled with the arrangement.

Sophie was in grade twelve and involved in at least five school activities on top of studying, which she seemed to be very diligent about.  Amy was loud and outgoing at the club, but much quieter around her daughter.  After dinner, Sophie set up her books on the kitchen table and worked until bedtime.  Luba followed her lead and read and studied English on the sofa in the living room.  She had to take a language proficiency exam as a residency requirement, and she was terrified of failing.  She had finished her proposal within a week of returning from Korea and had painstakingly translated it into English before sending it to Elena.   She got it back three days later with extensive corrections. It had been embarrassing.  Her verb tenses were still terrible, and she struggled with modifiers, too.

She dropped her water bottle in the kitchen while refilling it and it crashed into the metal sink causing Sophie to jump in her seat.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!"

Sophie said nothing but grabbed her phone and started texting rapidly.  Luba didn't have to see it to know exactly what it said.

_Ugh, my mother's weird Russian roommate._

One of her old pairs "friends" from home sent her links to interviews with Nodari and Pavlova.  She resisted reading them for weeks but finally broke down out of curiosity.

Nodari's wasn't that bad.  He wished her well, he doubted she would ever learn to jump.  Luba's accuracy rate on her triple Sal and triple toe was inching higher all the time.  Let him say what he wants.

Pavlova's, though, was devastating.  She had received volumes of criticism because of Nodari's partner being in treatment for anorexia.  Luba was a part of that story, and the interviewer, who seemed very sympathetic to Pavlova, asked the coach about it directly.

Pavlova labeled Luba a hard worker with little talent.  She said Luba didn't want to go home on breaks.  She said Papa was only interested in Luba being on TV, not about her health.  It was all so ridiculous, she wanted to laugh it off, but there were these kernels of truth.  Not about Papa, that was just revenge for him going to the federation.  But there were times when they were training in St. Petersberg that she wasn't able to go home.  Mama and Papa couldn't afford a round trip ticket for just a week long visit, and she was getting free room and board in the dorms.  She struggled from the beginning with the jumps.  She didn't have the natural talent there that most of the other girls did.

Somehow, though, Lee had figured out how to fix the technique, both in her body and brain.  Without ever yelling or criticizing her harshly, he had helped her fix this problem she'd had her whole career--years.  Brian Orser was the same way. Javier didn't have jump issues, but he often lacked focus and had to be kept on task during training.  Luba had never seen Brian lose his temper.  When she had outlined coaching techniques in her proposal, she had those two men in mind.  She hoped that she and Dylan could help Lee rise to prominence in the pairs world the way Brian's students had for him in singles.

She wanted to show the articles to Dylan and to the coaches and cry and have them comfort her, to tell her Pavlova was crazy. But she was tired of being seen as that fragile girl, so she kept it to herself.  Her emails to Mama and Papa focused only on the positive to keep them from worry. Mama had sent her a picture of Nodari's now former partner Yulia, out of treatment and looking so much better, and Luba saw no reasons to open old wounds for her parents.

Her buddies at the Cricket were mostly guys and women far older than her like Amy.  She was jealous of her friends in Detroit, who had each other every day.  She texted them all the time, but it wasn't the right medium for deep conversations.  She thought about calling Kyra, but she didn't want to worry her, either.  She told herself to stop being so weak.

She and Dylan had ballet on Mondays and Wednesdays, gym on Tuesdays and Thursdays and yoga on Friday.  Dylan had picked up more Krav Maga for the extra income, so she didn't see him weekday evenings much.  She looked forward to Fridays and the yoga studio.  She set up her mat behind him and kept her eyes on him the whole hour.  When he stretched up, his shirt rose enough for an inch of skin to be exposed.  She had to hold herself back from wrapping herself around him, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply.

It's not like they didn't touch each other all day long.  Work was different, though.  He was supportive and unfailingly kind, but really he was just her partner at work. Usually twice a week they would scramble to the condo for sex during their lunch break, but by the time they were back to the rink, he was partner Dylan once again.

She didn't doubt he liked her.  He made that very clear.  He was obviously attracted to her and enjoyed the sex.  But she wondered if that's pretty much all it was.  Fun girl, always up for it, enjoys it as much as he does.  Win, win, win. She felt something so much deeper than that.  They were twisted around in a pose, and he caught her eye and stuck out his tongue, mimicking the instructor who couldn't seem to stretch into a pose without his tongue hanging out of his mouth.  She stifled her laughter and gave him a stern look, and then turned her face so she could grin without him seeing her.

At the end of the hour, they were lying flat on their mats breathing in and out. She was trying to breathe out the stress and worry and bad feelings, but instead of exhaling them, she was just bringing them to the surface.  She felt the tears well up, and she closed her eyes and let them fall out of the corner of her eyelids, she hoped nonchalantly.  People did all sorts of odd things at yoga, so she doubted it would be commented on.  The tonguey instructor paused by her mat and then walked on.  When they sat up, she angled away from Dylan and breathed in and out deeply, trying to get herself under control.  When that didn't work, she made a beeline for her bag as soon as they got the release and buried her face in a towel.

Dylan grabbed his water bottle and took a long drink.  She could hear him but not see him.

"Sweaty.  Disgusting," she said as a way of explanation, wiping her face with the towel, finally calm.

"You're telling me," Dylan said as he pulled his shirt over his head and dried off with his own towel before putting a clean shirt back on.  "You ready?"

"Sure."

"Have any plans for tonight?" He asked her.

She looked at him, no idea how to react to the question.  Yeah, Dylan, I have all sorts of plans you don't know about with all of my many friends.  "No, do you?"

He looked at her and laughed.  "Shower, dinner, bed?  Mom brought over some salmon we can put in the broiler.  It's really exciting, I know, but I'm beat."

"No, that sounds good." She packed her bag and followed him out of the studio.

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Dylan**

**March 2015**

 

Luba had the pop station on in the car.  Somehow their car rides had morphed from plugging his phone in and relaxing to his well chosen and tasteful playlist to endless commercials and Rihanna _tryin' to make it back home by Monday_ at least twice an hour.  Luba was swaying and singing along while emailing her parents via phone with a big smile on her face, so he sucked it up.

Yesterday, Kyra had texted him a video she had titled _Ugh_.  It turned out to be Luba and Nodari's 2009 free program from Russian Nationals.  Luba had made a mess of the jumps and fallen on nothing towards the end--it almost looked like Nodari backhanded her although Dylan was fairly sure that was just the camera angle.  She had probably caught an edge.  After they finished, Nodari skated off without her.  The marks took forever to come up and he ranted and ranted while being comforted by their coach.  Luba sat quietly and untied her skates, not reacting to her partner but looking like she wanted to disappear.  Dylan looked over at her, still singing.  He put his hand on her knee and smiled when she looked at him.

"Stop singing?" She asked him.

"Nah, sing away."

Her jumps were getting scarily consistent.  They didn't talk about it, ever, but she almost never missed.  Her accuracy percentage was better than his.  Anytime someone asked how their training was going both said _very well_ and offered no other details. He tried not to think about it.  He was not a terribly superstitious person, but he was afraid any acknowledgement of how ready they were for Worlds would lead to their downfall.

They were on the way to his parents' house for Sasha's birthday dinner.  Sasha wouldn't actually be there as he didn't have leave at the moment, but they were gathering in his honor to eat his favorite dinner and celebrate him.  They would group Skype him if at all possible.  Both sisters were on break from their universities, and it would probably be the last time they were all together before he and Luba left for Shanghai.  Still, traffic was atrocious, and he was exhausted from training. Both of their phones sounded with a text at the same time.

"Oh, no!" Luba said before Dylan could glance at his.  Safer for her to take this anyway.

"What?"

"Your mom has to go to a birth.  Dinner is almost ready, will I mash the potatoes and make the gravy?" Luba read.  "Of course," she said out loud as she hit the buttons on her phone.

Dylan chuckled that Luba was more trusted than anyone in his family to finish dinner.

"I wonder who it is? I've missed the last two classes," Luba said.  "Probably Katy and Josh.  They were due at the end of March."

"In another life, you would probably be a good midwife--hey, there's another _a year ago_ for you.  A year ago would you have cared at all about midwifery?"

"A year ago I had no idea what midwifery was," she laughed. "But now, I think it's amazing."

"You would be a good midwife, kind but not putting up with nonsense."

"That is Julia. I hope I could be like her."

"Well, if this whole skating thing doesn't work out..." He wished he could take the words back as soon as they left his mouth, but she just laughed.

"No, too late.  I am skater. Have you ever seen a birth?"

"Not live although I've walked in on enough videos to last a life time.  I heard a birth once.  Some poor couple was not going to make it to the birthing center, so Mom told them to come to the house, which was closer, I guess.  She made us all go upstairs, but we heard the whole thing.  The baby was born almost as soon as they got in the house.  We stayed upstairs until everyone was clean and happy and under control."

"Your mom is amazing.  I would want to use a midwife someday."

"So you think you want kids?" It was not a subject they had ever mentioned, and he questioned the wisdom of even bringing it up now.  He wanted kids.  He wanted lots of them.  Up until recently, he had wanted have them as soon as he retired and spend the rest of his life being a dad and not worrying about much else outside his family.  Now the idea of his future was morphing into skating and pairs school and something different, but he knew that he wanted kids no matter what his career looked like.  He braced himself for anything from her, ranging from _I want a dozen_ to _ew, never_.

"I didn't think I would want one or ever have one.  My sister had my nephew, and he's very cute and adorable, but I thought it's not for me.  But...moving here, and having hope, and knowing your mother..." She smiled and looked at him.  "I always like kids, you know. Even when I wasn't very happy in the last years, I love to work with the kids.  I thought I was just teacher and would be happy just to be coach, but now I think wouldn't be enough.  Now I think I would want to have baby or two, would want to have brothers and...or sisters, I think.  If I was married, and that's what we...what husband and I wanted," she looked down at her phone.

"Yeah," he said.  Warmth spread over his chest.  "I would want my kids to have siblings."

"You want kids?" She asked him.

"Yes. I want kids." He tried to keep his tone light while uttering the understatement of his life.

They were finally pulling into his drive way. 

"We weren't supposed to bring a gift for Sasha?" Luba asked him, suddenly concerned.

"No. No presents necessary for the in absentia birthday party.  I sent him an Amazon card from both of us."

"Thanks!" she said, relieved. She made a beeline for the kitchen where his sisters were looking lost.  She whipped up the gravy and put Dylan to work mashing the potatoes while Norman carved the chicken.

"Save the bones for stock," she ordered everyone.  Within minutes they were transferring steaming bowls of food to the table and gathering around.  At least Sasha had picked a good meal.

They went around the table telling their favorite Sasha stories and also stories of family events that births had interrupted.  The dinner was delicious but bittersweet without Sasha and Julia.  They Skyped him singing _Happy Birthday_ and cutting his cake before digging in.  Dylan fixed the tiniest of pieces for himself and Luba and sadly skipped the ice cream.  He vowed to eat an entire half-gallon in April. Sasha looked happy, at least, and amused by the effort.

Luba was telling them about her English exam she had to take as a requirement for her Canadian residency.

"It was so easy! I couldn't believe it.  I studied for HOURS, and I could have passed it my first day here.  I could have passed it in French, which I think I should have taken," she laughed.

"I'm not surprised," Elena said.  "Your English is better than Dylan's. No offense," she laughed and ducked from his swat.

Luba looked at her blankly.  "No.  It's terrible.  My proposal was awful.  Thank you for reading it and making it good."

"Luba, I hardly did anything," Elena laughed.  "A few tense issues and articles, that's it."

"So this pairs school is going forward?" Norman asked.

"I'm not submitting it until after Worlds," Luba said.  "But yes.  And if the Cricket Club says no, I will look elsewhere," she looked at Dylan. 

He didn't know what to say, so he cleared off the dessert dishes instead.  He had to get through Worlds before he could seriously think about this dream of hers.  He saw her face fall just a bit, and then she snapped to business helping them clear the table. In the kitchen, she was putting the chicken carcass in a big freezer bag per his mother's instructions.  Kyra was urging her to spend the night.  

"I can't.  I wish I could. Five more days," she told them and hugged them all.

She was quiet on the way back, clicking off the pop station and replacing it with his phone. 

"It's pretty late, do you want to just come back with me?" He broke the silence.

"I better not.  I am so tired, and Amy thinks I'm staying there."

He pulled on to her street and parked at Amy's door.

"Luba..."

She leaned over and kissed him.  "It's okay.  I'll see you in the morning."  She closed the car door quietly and headed up the steps without looking back.


	30. Chapter 30

**Luba**

**March 2015**

 

Her side was throbbing as she walked to the kiss and cry bench.  He had tried to save the lift before it came down early by clamping on just above her hip.  She could still feel his fingers there.  Her mind was going in a thousand places, but she focused on one thought.  If a year ago, anyone had told her she would land three triple jumps beautifully and cleanly at the World Championships, she would have been unwound with joy. She had landed them.  She was miserable.

She found her place between Lee and Dylan.  She shouted out to Mama and Papa, almost by rote.  The marks took forever.  Dylan called out to his family by name.  Still no marks.  No one had anything to say.  Finally they came up.  She did the math in her head and realized what they would have if she had not fallen in the death spiral.  If the lift had stayed up.  She felt a sob starting at the pit of her stomach working its way through her body, tears welling up to meet it as it traveled to her throat.  It arrived at her face just as the music was starting for the next team.  She grabbed her water and tore back stage.

 

 

They had traveled to Shanghai with Meagan and Eric.  She had spent most of that time talking to Meagan and had learned about Meagan's whole life from her diet to her workout regimen to her upcoming wedding.  Kirsten and Marinaro had just left the Wirtzes to train with Meagan and Eric's coaches, and Meagan had a lot to say about that, too.  She hadn't known Kirsten all that well before.  She liked her more than she would have guessed.

"I like Kirsten," Luba told her.

"I guess Dylan doesn't so much," Meagan pried.

"There's nothing..." she searched for the right way to say this, "It's not that he doesn't like her as a person."

"Right..." Meagan encouraged her to go on.  Luba realized whatever she said would be carried right back to Kirsten.

"It can never be easy when one person wants to quit partnership and other wants to go on.  I'm sure he looks at this year and how hard it is and wonders why she made both of their lives more difficult.  It hurts when someone break up with you, yeah?  But looking back it's easier to see why she did.  It was a long time in the works, we think."

"I think it's been good for Dylan, and will be really good for Dylan.  Not maybe results this year, but the process.  And you two seem happy, off the ice."

"Right.  It's been the best for me, obviously."

"But for him, too."

"We'll see. So Eric and his family are traveling to your wedding?"

Meagan finally fell asleep, and Luba took out her book.  They landed and were met by people there to help them through the airport and to check in.  Dylan had told her how Worlds was a different experience from other competitions, and that was clear from the moment they landed.  Apparently the Olympics were even a whole other level.  She tried not even to hope.  To be at the World Championships was such a dream.  She had told herself that she would make it someday.  She had begun to think that perhaps it would be as a coach that first time.  Here she was with her skates and her partner and her Team Canada jacket.

There was no clever _what room am I sleeping in_ _tonight_ game.  They were swapping with Alex and Mitch, and sharing a room together for the whole week.  She was staying in Mitch and Dylan's assigned room, and Mitch was staying in her room with Alex.  They met the dancers in the lobby and exchanged keys and then settled in.  The room was small, but it had an incredible view.  Luba had been to China before with Nodari, but their hotel hadn't been like this. 

She was lying in bed the night before the short program, trying to shut down her thoughts and rest.  The pairs competition was premium at these Worlds because it was the Chinese team's best prospects for medals.  They would be skating in prime time, so if she couldn't go to sleep now, at least she would have some time to nap later. 

She was thinking of that first night in Detroit in Alex and Mitch's bed.  Dylan was acting so funny when he picked her up from the airport.  She was afraid he didn't like her at all.  She had stayed awake half the night worrying about the try out in the morning, suspecting she would be on a plane back to Moscow very soon.  She could look back now and see that Dylan felt nervous and uncomfortable, too, but she could remember her almost panic so clearly.  She was now lying in the crook of his arm, her head on his bare chest.  They'd had sex earlier, and she hoped it would help her settle down and be able to drift off.  It had worked much better for him, clearly.  He was breathing heavily in and out, and she tried to match it and relax.  She kissed him right above his nipple, which made him stir and hold her tighter.  Still mostly asleep, he leaned down and kissed her mouth.

"Luba..." he said softly and then drifted back to sleep.  She finally joined him and was jolted awake by both phones way too soon.  She got out of bed only by promising herself that nap later.

In spite of the less than ideal sleep, practice went great, and she was able to eat and sleep before it was time to get ready to compete.  She did her hair and make-up and felt truly excited to skate.  They were first, of course, but she loved skating first.  She could tell Dylan was annoyed by it, but it was ideal for her. 

The warm-up went very well, and very, very quickly she was standing on the ice breathing in and out waiting for the song to begin.  She took a huge breath and dove in.  She took off for the triple Sal without rushing or panicking and landed it perfectly.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan put his hand down.  For some reason, this took the pressure off of her.  The rest of the program wasn't the best they had ever skated, but it was perfectly fine.  She was flooded with relief as she held on to him at the end.  He was kicking himself for the jump error.  She liked the role of consoler so much more than being the one having to apologize.  Not that he had to, of course, but she knew exactly how he felt.  

They had a decent score and ended up being practically tied with two other teams.  If they skated reasonably well, they would finish in the top ten.  And the practices continued to be great.  She had felt amazing as the free program was about to begin.  She floated through the first three minutes.  It had been a dream skate.  And that, of course, had been her fatal error.  She had that exact thought transitioning from that last throw into the death spiral, and then she was down and the wheels had come off.

 

  

_I'm just not allowed to have anything go completely right_ , she was thinking as she looked for a place backstage to cry in private.  _Anytime it looks like it's finally going to happen, I storm in and fuck it up_.  She realized Dylan was right behind her.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

He enveloped her with his arms and she cried silently on his chest. 

"I'm sorry about the lift; I don't know what happened.  It was going so well!" He said, and she squeezed him tightly in solidarity.

"Was my fault.  Lost focus.  I'm so sorry, Dylan."

"Hey!" He said sharply, and she looked up at him.  He put his face down so it was right next to hers.  "It was the best we had ever done up until that point.  You were so on...Luba...we can do this.  I...I'm in, Luba.  I'm in for the project, for the school, for the pairs.  We can be the Moskvinas of Toronto.  We can be Iliushechkina and Moscovich, or Moscovitchkina and Moscovitch, or whatever you want us to be, but I'm going to be there with you.  We are going to do this." He said it quietly but emphatically, and it took her from silently sobbing to a big, loud, choking sob that burst from her like a roar.  Her whole body was shaking and she fell against him again.

"I love you," came out with the next sob, loud and forceful, and she couldn't get it back as it floated into the world.

He chuckled against her chest.  "I love you, too, Luba." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends the tale. Thank you so much for reading and commenting.


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